Flying's His Thing
by Sky the wolfdog9
Summary: AU. "May I fly/ride in your plane?" was a question Arthur Kirkland was too familiar with. So he thought Alfred was just another one of them...aparently not...US x Pilot!UK, Franada, brief FrUK some others, underaged drinking.
1. Chapter 1

** Okay, I can't believe I'm already starting a new story here and I try not to do multiple stories at a time since it's very taxing. **

**Man, I want to start my piloting lessons stat, but my mom wants me to finish school first (Damn you shooooolll! -Shakes fist at the sky-). I don't really know much about aviation either, so I'll be researching as much as possible from now on :) **

**So, is it interesting that I made Arthur the pilot instead of Alfred :D Lol, normally Alfred would suit the position more, but I like how this sounds, haven't really seen anything that has Arthur as an aviator. Alfred's always one :D So I've decided to give the American a break and let the Brit take to the skies. Lol, I love how dumb that phrase sounds. So without further ado, here's the first chapter to the story. Enjoy.**

XXXX

Even though his mother and father had grumbled about how costly it all was, Arthur Kirkland had managed to convince them into getting him into aviation lessons when he was thirteen. He had been taught how to fly a Boeing Stearman, taking off of the ground for the first time at fifteen, for the paranoia of crashing by his parents kept him from doing so until they deemed him 'responsible'. He was finally able to fly solo the next year. He was so thrilled that he almost crashed the plane. His dad had grounded him from the machine for three months. Then his mom died in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver who drove a large GMC, smashing it into her tiny, low to the ground Toyota. Arthur had flown that day for as long as he could, running the plane out of its fuel and almost crashing again. He was grounded for six months that time. He was able to fly again as his seventeenth birthday present.

Arthur was currently eighteen, attending his last year of high school. He had moved to America with his family job wise at twelve, living in the state of Minnesota for a long time. His Boeing Stearman resided in the Crystal airport, which wasn't a public one mind you, while he lived in downtown Minneapolis. After his mom had died, he and his father had been forced into an apartment due to bills and the lack of money since his mother was the one with the job racking in all of the cash. Now he feared for losing his precious plane, giving that they were struggling to even pay for the apartment. His annoying, semi-friend colleague who was, unfortunately and fortunately, rich, had loaned him just enough to keep his aircraft. Francis was his name and the guy was a damn pervert.

Francis was two years Arthur's senior with shoulder length blond hair that was rather wavy. If it weren't for his beard, one could easily mistake the Frenchman for a girl. It had happened with one of the guy's new students and best of all, Arthur was present when it happened. Francis had punished the poor soul by charging him extra for the first few weeks before finally cooling off. He was so arrogant and annoying and Arthur didn't understand why he hung out with the frog at all. That was until his mother died tragically in that car accident. Being a semi-friend of Francis, a rich pervert, suddenly became a huge benefit. The only negative thing about it was that the guy was currently forcing Arthur to do things for him and if he didn't, he wouldn't get the money to pay for his plane.

He didn't exactly have much of a problem with that when Francis made that offer, desperate to keep one of his escapes from reality (other than books and music). It became a problem, though, when he started asking for rather…perverted favors. Arthur had told him that he'd think about it and was still thinking about it a few weeks later. He most certainly did _not_ want to have sex with the Frenchman, but it was his only choice if he wanted to keep his biplane.

They had met when Arthur was just finishing sixth grade. Since he was a social outcast, he had been bullied often ever since he arrived in America, normally on his walk home when school was finished. He was on his way when three boys decided to be 'cool' and started pushing him around, stealing his notebooks in the process. Arthur wasn't very bold back then, being new to the country, so he ended up crying, being teased for acting like a baby. Lo and behold, Francis just happened to be walking home from a tennis match and beat the three kids so bad they ended up being the cry-babies.

At first, the two got along so well you would think that they were siblings, appearances put aside. But when Arthur's first year of high school rolled around, things got a little messy in between the two. Francis had stared fussing over Arthur almost crashing his plane on his first solo flight and Arthur was getting irritated with how the wavy blond acted like his mother. Once it was settled, they were a little sour towards each other after all of the arguments they had over Arthur's dangerous situation. Arthur's mood towards Francis started to get less sour with Francis for a while until his mother died, making him extremely hard to be with, along with the second time Arthur had almost crashed.

Ever since people in school had figured out that he was a pilot, many girls had begged for him to take them for a fly and some even had the balls to ask pilot it. Arthur had declined the girls and had sternly stated 'no' to those who asked to fly it, if they tried to persuade him, Arthur would beat them into the waxed floor. He'd been dealing with it for two years now and didn't think it'd ever stop. They asked less frequently now, but came none the less.

Looking up from his notebook, Arthur spared the whiteboard a quick glance before continuing with his fancy writing. He wanted to get out of Francis's deal, so he had started a book a few months ago, only problem was that he was going through what most called: writers block. Plus, he wasn't even half way through his plot; this was going to be one hell of a book, for the rough draft, minus the lengthy outline, was three standard school college ruled notebooks long and going on. School had been interfering with his progress too, having teachers tell him to pay attention and having four periods that constantly required his full attention. He only got to really write during a study hall, if he didn't have any work, or lunch.

Speaking of lunch, that's what was after this period and he was happy to say that he had brainstormed and was finally digging himself out of the two week long block. Once this rough draft was done, he'd rewrite it on his laptop at home, have his dad and probably even Francis proof that, edit it to what the two had added or gotten rid of and so on until he felt it was nearly perfect.

The bell rang over the intercom and senior high school students poured out of the class and mixed with the others in the hallway. Packing his stuff away, Arthur heaved the string backpack onto his back and left. The school had said no hefty backpacks, but string backpacks were fine, it was kind of weird, but Arthur didn't complain, it was much better than hauling around a huge three-ring binder. Taking his lunch and heading to a near empty table, Arthur sat down and pulled the notebook out along with a pencil and worked as he ate.

"Heard you fly," oh joy, not another one. Looking up at a bespectacled teen he assumed was a junior, Arthur gave a venomous glare before looking back down at his notebook. "Well?"

"Yes, in fact I do, now could you please leave?" he had this part rehearsed, not even looking up from the notebook now. The other didn't leave and just simply stood there, staring at the top of his notebook very intently. Cocking a rather thick eyebrow, Arthur stopped his writing and looked up, wordlessly asking the other why he was still there before actually voicing his thoughts. "Why the bloody hell are you still standing there you prick?"

The dirty blond flinched slightly, much to Arthur's joy. "Just wonderin' if you'd show me your plane," he answered, sending a sheepish grin at Arthur. Used to this routine that came in many varieties, Arthur sighed and returned to his slow writing.

"It's not on display, now leave."

"You're kinda rude man," furrowing his eyebrows at the statement, Arthur stopped his writing once he reached the end of his sentence, glaring at the teen who had sat down just a second ago. "I'm just asking," he continued. Arthur rarely got this scenario, thus, having less experience with it. Normally, the person would either slip into a sulk and try to make him guilty or they'd just keep trying in a different way than how this guy was doing it right now. But his statement of Arthur being rude really ticked the Brit off.

"Me? Why, it's you who's being rude, you will not leave me alone when I kindly asked for you to leave," his temper was flaring, it being short and all. Out of all of his '_Can I fly/ride in your plane?'_ scenarios, Arthur had never been called rude. He'd been called a bastard and a few other things, but never rude. The guy in front of him just shrugged his shoulders and began stuffing his face rather grossly with his lunch, deciding to change the subject.

"Name's Alfred Jones by the way, senior, can't wait to graduate," the guy named Alfred introduced himself, food jumbling his words a tad, but Arthur still understood him. "'M seventeen, and I plan on becoming an actor too," he continued, finally swallowing his food before chugging his milk. "Who're you?"

With slight disgust, Arthur hesitantly replied. "Arthur Kirkland, nothing less, nothing more."

XXX

"Hey Artie!" looking over his shoulder at the slightly unfamiliar voice, Arthur wished that he had started the plane by now. There Alfred was, joyfully approaching his aircraft with a wave of his gloved hand, Octobers in Minnesota got pretty cold half way through the month. Arthur leaned over the side of the plane, one hand itching to press the ignition to the plane and just leave the dumb senior who was mindlessly approaching the runway.

"Get off of the runway, it's dangerous."

His advice was ignored. "So it _does _have a passenger seat, can I fly with you?" hell no was what Arthur wanted to say, but decided against it, not wanting to be accused of being rude again. Alfred was already halfway to his plane, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other swung at his side. "Wow! This thing's pretty cool," the American remarked as he got even closer, reaching out to touch the metal.

"Do _not_ touch my plane you git, now I advise that you please _leave_ before I accuse you of trespassing, I did most certainly did not invite you here," Arthur snapped, slapping the other's hand away before his gloved fingers could touch his aircraft. Sending a glare down at Alfred, Arthur's hand twitched toward the ignition once more; he didn't care if he ran Alfred over, he just wanted to have the damn wanker leave him alone.

Alfred looked hurt at being swatted at, but it soon dissolved as he inspected the biplane. It was a simple silver, not yellow or blue like the pictures he'd seen in an aviation book he had read when he was eight. Instead of the red white and blue circles on the tips of the wings, large British flags had been stuck over them almost carelessly. The American almost screamed when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Looking over at the person who had done so, Alfred stood face to face with a wavy haired blond. If it weren't for the beard, he would've thought he was a she.

"And who is this _Angleterre_?" came a voice, heavy with the French accent. Looking up at Arthur in confusion at the different name the senior was addressed by, Alfred saw a sour look forming on the Brit's facial features.

"This git is trespassing mind you, now frog, could you please kick him out?" the words stung Alfred, but he hid the fact, looking over at the Frenchman who shook his head from side to side slowly with a chuckle, Alfred was getting a little confused. He was for sure not trespassing…or was he? He didn't know, Matthew had said that he was kind of dense with this kind of stuff.

"And what about my favor you've been thinking over for the last three weeks?" Francis questioned in what sounded like a challenge. Alfred wanted to laugh at the cute blush that spread across Arthur's face, but remained silent.

"Fine, on Friday though, can't go around school after that," came a reply thick with irritation. Francis beamed at his friend (Francis considered Arthur a friend while Arthur considered Francis a semi-friend) and tightened his hold on Alfred's shoulder, getting the American's attention.

"I'll let you watch _mon ami _take off, but that's it," and Alfred nodded, not exactly knowing what _mon ami_ meant. He knew that _amor_ was love in Spanish, so he automatically assumed that _ami_ had something to do with love even though French was a completely different ball game. That got him wondering if the young pilot was gay or not…not that he cared or anything. Though the old fashioned goggles the Brit wore were rather cute on him…

Being shaken out of his thoughts by the rev of the biplane's engine, Alfred noticed that he had been lead off of the runway and a safe distance away from the plane by Francis. Alfred liked Arthur's airplane, though he preferred the trippy looks of military aircraft over anything, the Brit's Boeing Stearman was quite the machine. The American watched as Arthur kept the aircraft still, probably checking all of his equipment before actually just driving the thing. Then finally, after what seemed like an hour, the plane began wheeling forward, gaining speed as it went down the runway.

Alfred soon learned that he loved the sound of Arthur's Boeing Stearman and that the takeoff was quite the sight to see.

Turns out Francis wasn't joking, he had actually kicked Alfred off of the small airport's property, dropping him off a block away. With a rather unenforced warning, Francis took off in his fancy car, leaving Alfred on the corner of the sidewalk. Huffing to himself moodily, Alfred stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned in the direction of his house before remembering that his own truck was at the airport. Going back would be risking something, but he turned back around and headed back to the small airport.

He felt like it was necessary to act unnecessarily stealthy as he went for his truck that was parked just outside of the fence. He even dared to play some James Bond in his head as he over exaggerated his movements before mumbling to himself. He was in his own imaginary world now, pretending to be a hero that was sneaking into the bad guy's place, narrating to himself as he went. Boy would Kiku love to see this.

Jumping into his car with a satisfied sound, Alfred jammed the keys into the ignition, mumbling to himself some more, now pretending that he was a fighter pilot. Starting his truck, Alfred pulled away from the airport and drove off, driving over the speed limit as he was stuck in his own imaginary world.

After getting an expensive speeding ticket, Alfred finally made it home, making his entrance as loud and as abrupt as possible. Strolling in and dropping the ticket on the dining table, Alfred opened the cupboard in search of food, feeling like he hadn't eaten in ages. Matthew, his cousin on his father's side, was sitting at the dining table, eating a sliced up orange as Alfred did so. He cocked his brow at the paper and picked it up, inspecting it.

"Another one?" he questioned simply, having been through this many times. Alfred's active imagination got him into a lot of trouble and it was hard to deal with when they ended having to pay money for it. Alfred gave his cousin a sheepish look before pulling out a box of Lucky Charms, one of his favorite cereals from back when he was in elementary school.

Since Matthew lived pretty close to Alfred and his parents, he came over often and attended the same school. The two got along very well and were often mistaken for twins. Whenever that happened, they'd just look at each other briefly before laughing at the person before revealing that they were cousins. The two shared many of the same friends as well, though they had some friends that the other didn't really have much interest in—they both got along with Kiku, Ivan (strangely), Feliciano, and some others. Then Matthew had a Cuban friend that seemed to harbor a strange grudge against Alfred who swore he had never met him before.

"Met a cute guy today," Alfred smiled cheekily. He had a history of telling Matthew whenever he met a cute or hot girl or guy. The first time it had happened, it was about a Mexican girl he couldn't even remember the name of. When Alfred had announced the first guy, Matthew looked so shocked that Alfred almost had to dump a glass of cold water on the boy's head before he shook himself out of his stupor. Matthew had told Alfred that he never thought a guy like him would be bisexual, but Alfred just smiled one of his blinding smiles and remarked that he was different.

"Let me guess, is he a soccer player?" Matthew guessed. Every time Alfred would announce his attraction towards another, Matthew had created a game where he'd guess their hobby until he gave up. Alfred shook his head at the guess, knowing that a pilot was the least likely thing for Matthew to guess. "Tennis?"

"Nope."

"Mechanic?"

"No."

"Dancer?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh…jockey?"

"Ha, ha, nope, but that was a creative one," Alfred laughed, though a jockey didn't sound so bad. His grandparents lived on a farm, maybe he could drag Arthur off to it sometime if they got along to see what the blond would look like on a horse. Alfred waited for any other ideas that Matthew would spout, but got silence as the Canadian looked thoughtful, itching at his cheek as he brainstormed.

"I give."

"He's a pilot," Matthew whistled, impressed. "I know right?" Alfred laughed, eyeing the speeding ticket a brief moment before pouring milk into the bowl of cereal he had fetched himself, taking a spoonful into his mouth before speaking, sugary cereal and milk affecting his speech. "'E's kinduh moody hough…"

Just like Arthur, Matthew looked a little disgusted at his actions, but didn't say anything about it, waving it off. Matthew simply told Alfred to finish his cereal before speaking again, not wanting to see partially chewed food mixed with milk sloshing around in the American's mouth as he spoke, though it was better than when the guy ate McDonald's and spoke at the same time. They sat in a few minutes of solitude, Alfred finally finishing his cereal, drinking the milk down as well before setting the bowl down with a satisfied sigh.

"You know Arthur Kirkland?" Alfred asked as he washed whatever was left in the bowl in the sink before stacking it on top of a small tower of stacked bowls, all of different sizes and colors. Matthew thought over the name for a small moment before shaking his head 'no'. "Blond hair that's really messy? Green eyes? British accent?" Alfred began throwing questions at Matthew who rolled all of the details around in his head for a moment before shaking his head 'no' once more. "Guess I'll have to point him out during lunch."

"Sure, hey Alfred, when do you plan on paying that ticket?" Matthew asked, changing the subject on his cousin. Rolling his eyes, Alfred promised that he'd pay it by the end of the week, Matthew knowing full well that it was all a big fat lie. They finished their snack eating and immediately went to whatever homework they had. It was a strict routine Matthew had forced upon Alfred, for he didn't want his cousin to forget his work.

XXX

Francis watched the Boeing fly around in the air, a few corkscrews being pulled off here and there, the engine now quiet due to distance. He was sure Arthur felt free whenever he was up in the air. Whenever he landed, he looked much happier and on one rare occasion where Arthur had actually let Francis ride with him, he had sounded so excited on the radio. When he hadn't warned Francis that he would corkscrew, the Frenchman shrieked in an unmanly way and hearing the Brit laugh was almost worth it. _Almost_.

Every time he would go up and fly, Francis would watch. Francis also flew, but he flew a monoplane and was also Arthur's mechanic, so he rarely took his plane out to fly anyways. The last time he had flown his own Pientenpol Air Camper, which was a little out dated, was about three months ago. He constantly cleaned and tweaked with his aircraft often, but had never felt like flying it for a while now. Maybe he'd take another shot tomorrow.

As the plane landed, Francis waited for Arthur to kill the engine before approaching him. The Brit jumped out with renewed energy, almost smiling at Francis. The two talked for a while before Arthur had to drive his plane into what Francis like to keep simple, the garage before the two drove off to grab some dinner together. It was easier to talk with Arthur whenever he had just had a good flight and it was also easier to get him to agree with some things such as this. Their conversation started with Francis convincing Arthur to go to the Halloween party his high school was throwing just to make more friends and ended with the two snickering about jokes they were making about Antonio, a Spaniard the two could never get along with.

It wouldn't be long until Arthur reverted back to his 'stick in the mud' attitude, so Francis savored the time when he could tease the Brit and earn a humored smile instead of a pissed off reply. He grabbed his phone when it vibrated at the announcement of a new text and opened it.

_**Francis, you're turn to make dinner. Or are you out eating again?**_

His dorm buddy Ludwig was waiting for him. Excusing himself, Francis stood and walked out of the restaurant. He and Ludwig had alternating turns with making meals. Breakfast would be made by one and dinner would be by the other, their task changing with each day. Francis had made breakfast yesterday, so it was now Francis's turn to make dinner even if he already ate something.

XXX

"So Mattie, how do you think I can get him to like me?"

"You're such a dork Alfred, just let it go naturally," Matthew rolled his eyes, having just finished making them dinner. Alfred was such a lazy oaf that he almost never made himself dinner, stuffing himself to the brim with bacon the next morning whenever Matthew wasn't there to make him his third meal of the day.

"But that so _boring_ Mattie," Alfred sounded like he was complaining, and it kind of irritated Matthew. The guy was so dense.

"You can't force someone to like you, you hoser," Matthew snorted, poking at his food for a moment before actually picking it up and eating it. It was Alfred's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't press on. Matthew was thankful for that. The two continued with their meal in an almost deathly silence if it weren't for the clinking of silverware against plates and Alfred's belching, the guy didn't even have the decency of holding it back. It was gross really.

Alfred finished his dinner first, being a fast eater despite how much he ate and placed all of his dishes in the sink, leaving Matthew to eat alone. Heading into his room to play video games Kiku played with him on the weekends whenever he visited. Having a renewed interest in aviation, Alfred popped in one of his war games, engaging his character into a very finger cramping dogfight.

He'd get to fly in Arthur's plane one day and that was final.

XXXX

**Mon ami – My friend**

**So how do you like it so far? Hope you enjoyed this. I enjoyed typing this and it took four hours to do so with little distraction. I'm not going to proof read this, so if there's any mistakes, please just overlook them. So yeah, please review, it's much motivation. :)**

**Peace out my friends.**


	2. Chapter 2

** Hey guys, thanks so much for all of the faves, alerts and reviews. I appreciate it so much, you guys are amazing and I love you all :D **

**PirateIggyJones: Lol, I 100% agree with you there. **

** So I don't really have anything else to say other than the fact that this chapter might not even be proof read. I'll do it later :) Enjoy.**

**XXXX**

"That's him," Alfred pointed his plastic spoon in the direction of the table Arthur sat at, almost alone. Matthew followed the direction in which Alfred was pointing with his eyes, spotting the guy Alfred was currently having a slight crush on. He was probably five feet five inches judging with what he could see right now. Alfred towered at six feet tall, it was kind of intimidating when the guy got irritated, though it almost never happened. Arthur had shaggy blond hair that looked untamable and rather large…err…eyebrows?

Matthew congratulated his cousin jokingly, clapping him on the shoulder twice before sitting down with his soon-to-be hockey team. Alfred, feeling a little abandoned as his cousin left, decided that he would go hang out with Arthur. Maybe if he asked enough and was nice enough, the Brit would let him ride in his plane. Smiling to himself wordlessly, Alfred plopped down in a seat next to Arthur with a loud huff to announce that, yes, in fact he was there.

The other just grimaced to himself slightly before glaring lightly at the bespectacled teen, silently proceeding with his meal. Alfred didn't know whether he should start the conversation or if he should let Arthur start it, but it didn't seem like the pilot was going to say something anytime soon, so he decided that he should do the task.

"So, how're you doin'?"

"If you're trying to get a plane ride out of me, you're out of luck," Arthur snapped, making Alfred flinch at his sour tone. It wasn't exactly fair though, Arthur wasn't even giving him a chance to at least get to know him. "Now if you'd kindly leave me alone, that'd be a favor," he continued, not even sparing Alfred a glance.

Albeit feeling like a kicked puppy, Alfred remained stubborn. "At least _try_ to make friends," he muttered, his statement earning an angered look from the guy sitting next to him. Itching at the back of his head, Alfred smiled the friendliest smile he could muster at the moment. Seeming unaffected, Arthur grasped his tray and started to stand up, ready to leave. "W-wait! Sorry 'bout that, just please…" Alfred's arms shot out and took hold of Arthur's sleeve to keep him from leaving, earning a dirty look from the moody pilot.

He finally let go of Arthur's sleeve when the Brit sat back down. The two sat in silence for a while, Arthur refusing to say something and Alfred just not knowing what to say.

"So err…what're your parents like? My mom's a consultant," Alfred started with a smile. "Dad's a policeman, works for the K-9 unit, we've got a German Shepherd, her name's Liberty," he continued, his smile never faltering. He almost missed the slight twinge of sorrow flash in Arthur's eyes when he mentioned his mother, but just passed it as his own excitement. Arthur took a long moment to answer, chewing his food much slower now.

"…Mother's dead…father just got fired…" Arthur answered hesitantly, Alfred cringing mentally at forcing the pilot to bring up a touchy topic. The soon-to-be actor apologized quietly and started eating in a slightly uncomfortable silence. Arthur's gaze fell to his tray of food, suddenly not feeling hungry. "Mom…she died in a car accident, got hit by a drunk driver…tomorrow, it would've been a full year since she died…" Alfred didn't know if he was happy that he was getting Arthur to open up or guilty for getting Arthur to open up.

"I uh…sorry for bringing it up," Alfred apologized once more. Arthur looked like he was going to cry any moment before his expression turned sour. "Look, I won't say anything about it ever again, I just didn't know. So…uh…what plane do you fly?" Alfred flinched back at the angry look that was sent his direction. Arthur thought that Alfred was trying to get something out of him now.

"A Boeing Stearman, now please, no more about my plane or my parents," Arthur almost demanded, holding his tone back just to keep Alfred from accusing him of being rude again. Alfred smiled sadly at Arthur and promised wordlessly that he would listen to his requests. The two returned to eating their lunch, Alfred having to think of another question that might not be a touchy subject with Arthur.

This one for sure was going to get himself yelled at, but he was so damn curious. "Who's that guy with the wavy hair by the way, the one at the airport yesterday?" Arthur just rolled his eyes at the mentioning of Francis, though it was expected since the two had interacted with each other in a strange way in front of Alfred. He'd spare they guy for his stupidity.

"That's Francis Bonnefoy, we've been…how do I put it? Not quite friends, ever since I was in middle school. Oh and I moved here from England when I was twelve just so you know," Arthur answered. Alfred was about to ask how they met, but decided that it was a question he should save for tomorrow. Nodding to himself, Alfred figured that he'd asked enough questions for the day, resuming with his lunch. Arthur seemed happy with not having anything else to answer, returned to his meal as well.

XXX

Arthur stood near the runway, silently watching Francis's monoplane fly through the sky. The guy hadn't flown in a while and it surprised him that something had managed to inspire him to do so today. Normally, there'd be huge gaps of time in between his flights and a three month gap wasn't exactly very big like last time; Francis had gone a year and two months last time. He would never _ever_ admit it out loud, but Arthur enjoyed watching his friend fly his Pientenpol Air Camper. Although Francis couldn't pull off aerobatic stunts like Arthur could, but his corkscrews were so impressive even if they were something slightly basic.

Crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one leg, Arthur craned his neck further upwards to keep Francis in sight. After a few more minutes of watching Francis, Arthur went off to the open garage and jumped into his Boeing, driving it to the runway. It was dangerous to takeoff with Francis in the sky as well, but Arthur liked to risk things every now and then. Being a stuck up Brit that listened to the rules was, he had to admit, kind of boring at times. He'd been yelled at many times for stunts like this, but he didn't mind it.

Checking all of his equipment before actually starting for the takeoff, Arthur muttered the rehearsed list to himself. Hopefully that Alfred wouldn't interrupt him this time. Looking up and at the fence which the teen had entered from, Arthur was relieved to see that he wasn't there, though slightly disappointed as well for some odd reason. Shaking it off, Arthur drove the aircraft forward, speeding up for takeoff.

"_Please don't hit me _Angleterre," came Francis's voice on the radio, though it sounded more amused than worried. Allowing a smirk to tug at his lips, Arthur shook his head, the wheels of his Boeing starting to lift off of the pavement.

"Don't worry frog, I will," he joked, hearing the Frenchman laugh over the radio as he gained altitude. The two had gotten permission to fly over the town when Arthur turned sixteen. The city refused to let them over it, but he could understand, he wouldn't even try flying over the city either though, it was a little too risky and if he almost crashed, he'd deal more damage than if he crashed near the Crystal Airport. "…You know what tomorrow is?"

Francis's answer was serious. "_Yeah. What're you going to do in_ her l'honneur?" Arthur remained silent for a while, simply enjoying the comforting sound of the plane's engine as he flew through the air, his old-fashioned goggles keeping his eyes safe from the winds that whipped at his face.

"_I'm not going to fly tomorrow_…" Francis smiled at Arthur's reply. The Brit wouldn't miss a day without having flown at least once. He had remembered how stressed Arthur got when his dad grounded him from his Boeing for the second time. Francis, being the amazing and sexy friend he was, managed to sneak the boy out and let him fly every few weeks. The poor guy looked like he was going to have a mental breakdown, it was sad, yet strangely amusing at the same time, though he'd never admit the amusing part to Arthur.

"That's very nice of you, and do you know what's after that?"

"_Yes frog, I'll meet you at your place at eight, I'm not dumb, so leave me alone on that, I'd prefer to not think about it,_" Francis laughed again, making sure to press the button so Arthur could hear him. Francis looked over as Arthur's plane got within twenty feet of his, though he didn't miss the angry glare he was receiving. He just didn't expect Arthur to stick his tongue out and performed what was called the Split S(1).

"Show off."

"_Pervert_." Francis laughed again.

Alfred watched, rather impressed at Arthur's trick. He assumed it was the Split S, but couldn't be one hundred percent sure of it since it had been a long time he had read about some aerobatic stunts when he was younger. Even though the maneuver wasn't all flashy and such, it was still impressive to watch, knowing that an irritable Brit was piloting the machine. He didn't know who was in the Pientenpol, so he'd just have to ask Arthur, unless it was that Francis guy, but he didn't seem like the kind of person to take interest in leaving the ground.

Even though the flights lasted a good two hours, Alfred never grew bored, having to sit down on the ground after feeling his legs numbing. Arthur rarely performed aerobatic stunts apparently and Alfred wanted to see more, he'd have to request that if their relationship got any better. The two finally landed, though they would've flown longer if it weren't for the little amount of fuel they had left. Arthur looked like he was on cloud nine when he stepped out, talking enthusiastically with Francis. Alfred soon found himself wishing that his relationship with Arthur was like the one the Brit had with Francis. Even though Arthur had said that he wasn't exactly friends with Francis, he sure as hell looked like friends with the Frenchman. Alfred was also a bit surprised to find that it w_as_ in fact Francis in that monoplane.

When Arthur spotted Alfred, he allowed his smile to widen further, still high from his flight. Alfred liked that and approached the two, greeting them casually. Francis seemed shocked that Alfred even bothered coming back even after being kicked off and accused of trespassing. He wasn't planning on kicking Alfred off again though, he wasn't the type to kick people off of property, he preferred inviting…if you get what he means.

"Hello there Alfred," Arthur even greeted him! Alfred felt like dancing out of joy, but settled with smiling himself and saluting Arthur in a mocking way. Alfred was ecstatic to see that Arthur even found some humor in it. "You dolt, I'm not in the Air Force," he waved it off like a fly buzzing around his head.

"Oh? Maybe I should enlist you then," Francis jumped in with a smirk.

"Put a sock in it frog," Arthur replied, though he was smiling, so Alfred dismissed the statement as not angry, but he did feel a little jealousy bite at him. Shaking his head, Alfred snapped himself out of it. A hero wasn't supposed to be jealous anyways. He watched the two argue halfheartedly, Francis going as far as giving Arthur a nuggie. Alfred was happy he came none the less.

XXX

Alfred watched with worried eyes as Arthur slunk around the hallways during lunch. Yesterday he had been so happy and now he was acting as if his mo—oh. He had followed the Brit, hoping that he'd gather up enough courage to comfort him. He was a hero damn it! Why couldn't he approach the hurting guy?

"H-hey!" Arthur jumped a little too dramatically at Alfred's worried voice. Turning his head to look over his shoulder slowly, as if he were going to be shot if he were spotted moving, Arthur's pained green eyes met Alfred's. "I…you look kinda down," he hated what he had just said. Of course he was feeling down! "Err…I mean…"

"Don't worry about me," Arthur's tone wasn't sour, or sorrowful. It was almost monotone, which kind of frightened Alfred, he wasn't a big fan of monotone speaking. Arthur turned around and continued his sulking, Alfred following him almost shyly like a lost dog.

"Are you going to at least eat some lunch?" Alfred asked, his worry failing to ebb away. Arthur looked up at him again, looking a little surprised that Alfred had followed him around the first floor of the school, but the expression died away shortly after as he shook his head from side to side slowly before continuing on.

Alfred continued on with the day, hoping that Arthur wasn't depressed and considering suicide. Although that was kind of farfetched, with someone like Arthur, Alfred couldn't help but worry and wonder. It was almost torturous, but when school finally ended, Alfred went back home, finding that Matthew had gone to his own house, waited for the normal time Arthur would take flight and drove off in his rusty truck.

His worry returned with full force when he spotted Arthur's Boeing Stearman sitting in the garage, untouched. Looking up into the sky to check if Francis was flying either (Alfred didn't know that Francis didn't fly often), his concern increased to the point that it hurt. Biting his lip, Alfred pulled out his cellular, wishing that he had asked for Arthur's number yesterday.

"What are you doing here?" turning around, a little surprised, Alfred saw Francis standing behind him with a curious expression aimed at him. Turning around fully to face the Frenchman, Alfred smiled a little sheepishly, though his concern was probably written all over his face with bright colored markers. "Are you okay _mon ami_?" there was that _mon ami_ again…

"I'm kinda worried about Arthur, I know his mom died today a year ago, but he looked depressed at school," Alfred dropped the sheepish smile and shifted his weight to the other leg unconsciously. Francis looked glad that Arthur had someone other than himself to worry about him, but dropped the expression, replacing it with a slightly more professional one.

"Err…he doesn't want any visitors," wrong thing to say.

"You have connection with him? Could you please bring me to his place or something? I want to see if he's okay, 'm worried ya know?" he hoped Francis would, though the reluctant expression the Frenchman adopted told him otherwise. "Eh, you don't have to…but is he okay?"

"Yes _mon ami_ he is fine. Just a little blue," Alfred smiled and thanked Arthur's friend.

Alfred was happy to see that Arthur wasn't depressed the next day, but the Brit seemed more nervous than anything. Whenever Alfred would ask during lunch, Arthur would turn red and tell him to 'sod off', though it wasn't intended to make Alfred leave, he never would've left anyways. Arthur still acted a bit sour towards Alfred, but his depression yesterday and nervousness today, made that go away briefly, though Alfred expected it to return the next time he saw Arthur.

"Hey Artie, you coming to the Halloween party? It's going to be SO cool! I'm dressing as a policeman like my dad and I even got permission to bring Liberty!" Alfred suddenly brought up, excitement evident in his voice. Arthur wanted to say '_It matters if I can walk by then_', but resisted the urge to, knowing that, even though Alfred was dense, not that dense. Plus, he was going to tell what was happening tonight, to _nobody_. It would only be in between Francis and himself, though Francis might leak the information to some of his college buddies, but Arthur didn't care about that since he didn't know any of them.

"Err, I'll see if I can come."

"What're you going to dress as?"

"A football player."

"Wow, really football?" Alfred asked, shocked at the answer.

"Not American football you git," and then everything was cleared up for him. Alfred nodded his head and apologized for 'thinking the American way' as Arthur had put it. The two talked a little for the rest of lunch, Arthur's mind too busy with whatever he was nervous about to really hold a conversation. Alfred didn't mind it though, it was probably some huge ass test that would determine whether he made it into college or not. Something like that. Too bad it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with academics.

Arthur excused himself from the table, threw his garbage away and left since they were allowed to leave lunch whenever they wanted. Alfred sighed, got up and joined Matthew and his soon-to-be hockey team, all of them cracking horribly corny jokes, Matthew being the only one to pull a witty one. It was Matthew we're talking about though. He knew what and when to say something smart, snappy or witty, although it was ignored most of the time. The poor guy.

The nervousness Arthur had displayed nagged at Alfred, so he had decided to go to the Crystal Airport early this time in hopes of catching the Brit before takeoff. As he had predicted, Arthur was there, sitting in his Boeing, pondering over whether he should fly or not giving his anxiety might result in a crash. But he knew full well that flying would get rid of most of it.

Alfred approached the aircraft, calling Arthur's name loudly so his voice could be heard over the engine. Arthur's head snapped up, his attention pulled away from whatever he was thinking about. He then narrowed them irritably at Alfred, looking murderous right there in his plane. Alfred almost regretted coming here, but he had his reasons.

"Hey Artie—"

"My name's Arthur!"

"Hey Artie, what's buggin' ya?" Alfred's abrupt question silenced Arthur who turned bright red and veered the aircraft forward, making Alfred jump back in fear of getting injured. Arthur sent him a venomous glare before taking down the runway, leaving Alfred in a shocked stupor. "That was rude."

"Ah, nice to see you again _mon ami_," turning at the now familiar French accent, Alfred smiled and waved as Francis approached him, lightly covered in oils. "Ah, did precious _Angleterre_ try to run you over? Don't worry, it's normal, used to do it to me all the time," Francis chuckled, removing his gloves, probably having come back from working on his plane.

"He does that on a _regular basis_?" his disbelief was so thick in his voice that Francis burst out in a fit of laughter. Alfred stared at him, his expression must be pretty funny if Francis wouldn't stop his obnoxious laughing, though Matthew had said himself that Alfred's laughter was annoying. "That's dangerous, I'm surprised he's even allowed into one!" Francis only laughed harder.

"Oh, dear Alfred, you could _never_ keep our dear _Angleterre_ away from his precious Boeing. Poor guy would go through an anxiety attack if you did," Francis chuckled, waving his greasy gloves in the air, Alfred trying to wave the stench away from his face. The two looked up just in time to catch Arthur pulling another corkscrew before curving up, the aircraft almost at perfect vertical angle before appearing to tumble in mid-air, slowly dipping before plummeting to the ground; Alfred almost had a heart attack as he watched. "Don't worry, aerobatics is his form of venting."

"Why can't he just sing or dance like normal people?" Alfred let out the air he didn't know he was holding in as the plane returned to normal flight. "I didn't even know this was possible with a two winged plane," he continued, wiping the sweat off of his forehead in relief. "I don't know how you can watch that and breathe…"

"Took three years to get used to," Francis remarked. "The first time he corkscrewed when he was fifteen, almost lost control, you could tell all the way from the ground," Francis continued, stuffing his gloves into his pockets. The two watched in silence once more, Alfred watching a little more nervously that he normally did.

"Hey Francis, Arthur's been kinda nervous lately, what's up?"

"Aw, don't worry, tonight will just be his first naked time."

"_What?_"

XXXX

**L'honneur – honor**

**(1) The Split S – ****The plane starts level and then does an inverted roll, dives down and completes bottom half of the loop, and continues flying in opposite direction. Err…if they left a trail of smoke or whatever it is, it'll look like a sideways fishing hook, the bent part facing the ground if that helps your mental image…**

**Yeah, I really like this, though I'm not proof reading it, so there might be mistakes all over the place. Sorry if that's the case. So yeah, I really don't have much to say other than for you to please review, it's motivation and I love to hear what you guys have to say. Peace out my friends.**


	3. Chapter 3

** Hey guys, today was so amazing :D Since it's Halloween, my school lets you wear your costume as long as it doesn't include a full face mask. I don't even know what I was, I have two wristbands with the union jack on 'em, a T-shirt with wolves on them with the American flag in the background, a dog tag with the American flag on it, these trippy headphones that had the union jack on them, a button with the south Korean flag, a mini south Korean flag and I brought this HUGE ASS American flag and drug it all around school. The pole was taller than I am (which is pretty tall) and the flag was almost as big as me. It was hard to haul around school, but it was SO freaking worth it, everyone was like "Yeah America!" Lol, I'm high off of it :D So happy, carrying a flag around is so much freaking fun, though I was devastated when I figured out my US History teacher was out sick. I was crushed really…**

** Lol, my friend and I are so dumb, so I asked almost everyone I know what country they'd be and could only choose one. One of my friends is an England freak (he doesn't know about Hetalia), so, being the obsessed person he is, chose England. I could list a few more people, but I don't exactly have the space to do so…He also doesn't exactly like America (which I chose just to peeve him and because I get to be a superpower –insert evil laugh here-. So when I arrived at school with this huge ass (excuse my language) American flag, run up to him, screaming at the top of my lungs "ENGLAND! ENGLAND!" and when he turns and sees me, the look on his face was SO priceless. Oh gosh, I cannot WAIT for next year :D Lol so then a little later, when lunch rolled around (and after a few friends trying to get the flag to touch the ground –the American flag should NEVER touch the ground to those who didn't understand there-), I told him I'd buy him a same size flag of England and he was so happy. Lol, I really want a big English flag, but that's his job :P **

** We're going to ask the principal for permission to carry the flags around on the last day of school. Lol, I'll tell people "If you see a guy with a big British flag like this American one, you know our reasons are related." **

** Oh gosh, I have to shut up, I hope I haven't bored you already…I want to go trick or treating, but I just don't have the energy to and I have to get this chapter up along with the seventh chapter to 'Don't Let it Get to Your Head'. Lol, I don't even know what to capitalize in that title…**

** So here's the third chapter to 'Flying's His Thing'. I really love this story, enjoy :)**

**XXXX**

Arthur had managed to arrive at the Halloween party late since he had managed to drag Francis along. Other than being loaned the money he needed for his Boeing, Arthur managed to bribe Francis into dragging him to the Halloween party—in return though, he ended up having sex with Francis. It was embarrassing yes, but…never mind. Although it was mind-blowing, Arthur only had one not so small problem—The Limp.

The damn French frog had even laughed at him the next day, mocking him about what Alfred might think when he arrives, limping like he had just gotten shot in the leg. The poor guy had probably never been so close to death before, including his near crashes when he flew his Air Camper frequently back when he was a sophomore. But he still laughed as he drove an uncomfortable Arthur to his high school, giving that the seats weren't any more comfortable than a wooden chair from their late night 'wrestling'.

The two stood in the middle of the cafeteria, not exactly doing anything, Arthur tapping at his shin guards every now and then or switching his hold on the silver and black soccer ball. Arthur wore a simple soccer uniform, nothing flashy, but not exactly dull looking, the pattern just interesting enough to have one examine it briefly. Francis though, was more interesting; he was clad in French armor that was made back in the 100 year war era, a large French flag fastened to a flag post which was slung over his shoulder. Some teens of French decedent whooped and gave him encouraging looks and some students that Arthur knew were in some type of French class where they learned the language, sent jealous looks.

France soon disappeared into the crowd, the only thing giving Arthur a sign of him was the large flag that poked up from the crowd, raising a foot over most heads. He was about to consider leaving until a German Shepherd bound over to him, butt wagging from its energetic tail that was waving a mile a minute, jabbing its nose into his thigh before leaving. Arthur was confused and waited for something to happen and soon enough, the dog returned, this time with Alfred in tow. The Brit took a moment to observe the American's costume. He was in a basic K-9 unit uniform, likely his father's, along with a small treat bag strapped to his belt, the dog poking its nose into the bag every so often.

"Hi Artie, man, Liberty's such a good dog! She found you no problem," Alfred smiled, pulling the other blond into a one armed hug. Arthur felt a smile tug at his lips, but it was killed by his sour mood and the sour feeling in his rear, holding back a yelp of pain. Liberty sat obediently at Alfred's side for a short moment before poking her nose against the treat bag.

"That's nice to know and—wait, what did you use to track me? Don't you need a shirt or something?" Arthur was about to remark something until that question hit him. Alfred smiled broadly for some reason as he dug into the pouch and pulled out a dog treat.

"Yeah, Francis gave me one of your shir—"

"FRANCIS!" Arthur roared, snapping his head in the direction of the large flag that waved around as the other walked briskly. The flag turned, indicating that Francis was headed in their direction, having heard Arthur's call. Alfred sent him a confused look before brushing it off, kneeling down onto one knee and began cooing into Liberty's fur, itching at her head and neck affectionately. Arthur waited almost impatiently as Francis finally came into view, emerging from the thicker part of the crowd. Arthur heard Alfred whistle in an impressed way, but brushed it off, not exactly wanting to know why Alfred was whistling—probably to his dog.

"Yes _mon amour_?" Arthur went to sock the Frenchman in the face, but was held back by his own self-control. He'd attract attention if he did and the police (not Alfred), were present, standing on the sidelines, speaking among themselves. About to start his angry rang, Arthur took a step closer, though he didn't expect for Francis to do the same, though in a more seductive manor. "Is my _douce_ Arthur angry about something?" he lightly took Arthur's chin into his hand.

"Shut it, why in bloody hell would you give Alfred one of my shirts?" Arthur fumed, though failing to fight off the blush that rose to his cheeks. Much to his dismay, Francis just let out his infamous 'honhonhon' laugh, going as far as patting Arthur on the top of his head like a dog. Did this bloody frog think that he was _funny_?

"Do not fear _mon amour_, dear Alfred asked very politely for it," Arthur was silent for a moment before his rage's focus had turned from Francis, to Alfred. Turning to glare at Alfred, Arthur was about to yell something when Matthew appeared, clad in a common park ranger uniform, a stuffed polar bear hugged tightly in his arms. Even though the Canadian acted more mature than Alfred, he could never e_ver_ abandon the small polar bear his deceased mother had given him. Matthew was about to greet Arthur too, though his words clogged in his throat when his eyes landed on Francis. He almost mistook him for a her.

"_V-vous parlez Français_?" Matthew asked, pointing a shy finger at the French flag slung over his shoulder proudly. Francis's grin widened and the two fell into a conversation only those that understood French could follow. Alfred 'daaw'ed and Arthur simply rolled his eyes. Whoever was in charge of the DJ system had just started a song for people to dance to, the party officially starting now that the music came into play. Alfred's friend, Kiku, had joined them a little after, jumping in and out of the conversation. The Japanese boy was, from what Arthur knew, very likely a samurai warrior, a fake sword strapped to a belt that was a small addition to the rather detailed costume.

Kiku didn't stay very long though, having joined a Greek boy to dance. Alfred watched the two with a smile on his face before telling Arthur about Kiku and the boy named Heracles. After that, the two were silent, not exactly knowing what to say to each other now. It took a while too, but Alfred managed to muster up the courage to ask Arthur to dance with him.

"I know it might be weird since we're both guys…but…just thought that it'd be nice ya know…" itching at the back of his head, Alfred's face was gradually turning red, though with the dimmed lights, you couldn't really tell.

"Who'd watch Liberty?"

"She's a good girl, Liberty, stay," and with that firm command, Liberty almost froze, watching Alfred intently as he brought Arthur, who was hiding his limp rather horribly, to the makeshift dance floor. It was when Alfred brought his arm around Arthur's waist would the pain start to become something he could barely ignore, and with Alfred holding him closely, the American picked up about ten seconds into their dance. "You okay?"

_Of course not, Francis pounded me into the bed last night_, was what Arthur wanted to say, but settled with, "just a limp."

"_Just_ a limp? Artie, you're in pain," Alfred worried, removing his arm and grasping both of Arthur's shoulders firmly, his concern swimming in his blue eyes. Frowning, Arthur pushed Alfred's hands off of his shoulders with a little difficulty before walking away from Alfred, his limp much more visible now. Francis was probably watching him in amusement. Alfred watched Arthur disappear into the crowd, not bothering to follow the Brit and deciding to give him some space since he wanted to get along with him. Instead, he went to Francis to ask, although, the name Francis and Arthur's limp clicked together, making him remember that odd answer Francis had given him yesterday.

Alfred wanted to facepalm, but didn't—his cheeks though, didn't fail to turn a very bright red at the thought. Looking at Francis who was standing a little too closely next to Matthew, Alfred almost stormed over to the two, pulling Matthew away from the Frenchman. With a yelp and a protest, the Canadian was dragged off, Alfred calling for Liberty. Strange, Liberty never broke her stay.

"Mattie, I lost Liberty, one moment," he growled, turning around and began calling for his father's dog.

"What do you want?" Arthur scowled, staring down at the dog. The German canine stared back up at him, her tongue innocently poking out of her mouth with a curious look and a slowly wagging tail. Grunting, Arthur turned and continued down the hallway. It was more vacant than the cafeteria, but there were still some couples hanging around. The clicking of nails against the waxed floor told Arthur that Alfred's dog was still following him. Sighing, he turned around again. "What?" he knew he probably sounded strange for talking to the canine, but didn't think anything of it. Liberty cocked her head and wagged her tail again.

_ Probably thinks she's supposed to lead Alfred to me again,_ Arthur thought, continuing his way to the exit. He was going to leave and fly his plane damn it; and this dog won't leave him be! Picking up his pace, Arthur flung the doors open, Liberty squeezing through just in time as if it were a practiced maneuver.

It was about half of an hour later when Liberty finally ran back to Alfred, twirling excitedly in circles and nosing Alfred's pocket. He pulled her into a tight hug, almost bursting into tears of relief, though the dog fought against his embrace, pulling Arthur's shirt from Alfred's pocket and bounding away almost merrily.

"Hey! Liberty, that's not something you can play with!" Alfred, wailed, yelling 'drop it' once, Liberty, although acting a bit rebellious tonight, still obeyed the command, dropping the white tee onto the ground with a disappointed look in her eyes. Alfred pat her head, smoothing her ears back and uttering his apologies before kissing her on the nose and stuffing Arthur's shirt back into his pocket.

Francis and Matthew approached him, Matthew looking giddy and Francis looking like he'd rape his poor Mattie right on the scene. Alfred pried Matthew away from Francis for the fourth time that night, warning Matthew about a look Francis was giving him. Matthew, being a little lovesick at the moment, simply brushed it off and stepped back to Francis's side, much to Alfred's dismay.

"Ah, _mon ami_, have you seen my precious _Angleterre_? He just disappeared," Francis asked as the party began winding down, it being almost midnight and the party having started at eight. Alfred didn't miss the 'precious' part, turning a bit red at the mental images his brain was feeding him before shaking his head from side to side in a 'no' motion. The Frenchman flipped his cellular open, thumb jabbing at the key pad as he texted the pilot before pocketing the device. "Come on, you two have to go home, I'll look for Arthur," Francis soon announced, beginning to leave the edifice with Matthew in tow. "I'll drive you guys home."

"No thanks, we've got our own ride," Alfred bit, sending a suspecting glance at Francis who laughed and waved his hand, leading the two to the main entrance to the school. Matthew and Alfred continued on while Francis stayed inside, watching the two leave.

"Dude, I'm serious, please stay _away_ from that guy," jamming the keys into the ignition, Alfred warned Matthew. His cousin rolled his eyes at his protectiveness, but thanked his American cousin, _sarcastically. _Seething a little at Matthew's obliviousness to the Frenchman's perverted intentions, Alfred floored the gas pedal, making Matthew jump and probably giving the guy a case of whip lash. Alfred also heard Liberty scramble around in the back seat, surprised at the sudden change in motion.

"What the hell? Are you seriously that mad about it? I'll stay away from him then jeez…he's in college right now anyways and is in a relationship with Arthur…" Alfred almost slammed on the brakes, but didn't for they own safety. Arthur most certainly didn't act like he was in a relationship with Francis. Alfred decided that he shouldn't have driven, he was halfway into the act of slamming his head into the steering wheel when a loud car horn and a pair of headlights swooshed past his vision, indicating that someone had just narrowly avoided him. "Dude, you're going to get us killed! I don't want to die, especially on Halloween!" Matthew wailed, smacking Alfred upside the head, making the vehicle swivel to the side before Alfred managed to straighten out their course. Hopefully the police didn't think that he was a drunk driver…especially with what he was wearing currently…

"I was just thinking the same thing," Alfred grumbled moodily, tightening his grip on the steering wheel before loosening it. Matthew sighed in slight relief and leaned back in his seat, eyes glued to the road and bracing himself for whatever Alfred was going to make the truck do next.

Francis hummed and tapped his foot on the floor impatiently, it was ten 'til one and Arthur had yet to reply to his text. Francis had returned home after ten minutes of waiting in the school, the place slowly going dark as lights went off one by one. Whipping out his phone once more, Francis's thumb jabbed at the key board, sending yet another text to his friend. He then dialed Matthew's number.

"_Hello_?"

"Ah_ bonjour_ _Matthieu_, Arthur hasn't responded yet, will you put Alfred on?" there was a brief moment of distant sounding talking before Alfred answered the phone with a slightly irritated 'hello?'. "Ah, Alfred, _mon ami_ I hope I haven't woken you up."

"_Nah, I've been up, found Artie yet_?" Francis smiled at the nickname Alfred had given Arthur before answering.

"Aucun_, unfortunately not, maybe Liberty can help_?" Alfred was alert now, pressing the phone a little more firmly to his ear. Agreeing to Francis's suggestion, Alfred whistled for Liberty, a specific whistle his father used whenever they were about to leave for a job. The German Shepherd came tumbling down the stair case, barking once before stopping in front of Alfred, looking expectantly up at Alfred and raising a paw in anticipation. Pulling the T-shirt from the coffee table he had placed his father's uniform on, Alfred let her sniff it once more before sending her off with the command 'find!'.

"I'm off Mattie!" Alfred announced, banging the door closed loudly, Matthew having no clue why Alfred was leaving so damn early in the morning, his damn cousin still had his phone too!

Alfred wasn't surprised when Liberty began barking at the fence that kept trespassers out of the Crystal Airport. Feeling his anxiety ebb away a tad, Alfred found the entrance and let Liberty in who immediately dashed out into the runway, Alfred almost having a heart attack giving how dangerous it was. He had to drag an excited Liberty off of the runway and stared up into the sky, listening for the tell-tale plane engine and soon enough, when he focused enough, Alfred could hear it, though it was kind of distant.

Alfred ended up waiting until it was two twenty in the morning before Arthur's plane finally landed. He sometimes wondered how Arthur could fly in this cold weather, with the cockpit of his Boeing not having a protective glass or anything…

As Arthur stepped out after driving the aircraft into the garage, Alfred approached him with a brisk pace, Liberty at his side with a professional look.

"Francis?" that name made Alfred cringe a bit, proving the 'Arthur and Francis being a couple' Matthew had brought up even more accurate. When Arthur waited for Alfred to approach further, he suddenly noticed that it was, in fact, not Francis. "Oh, Alfred…hello there," he greeted, tossing the goggles up into the cockpit with little care of where they landed.

"How long have you been here?" Alfred questioned, feeling like the police his father was with Liberty pressed into his leg. Arthur looked confused at his question, but shrugged his shoulders anyways once the slight surprise wore off.

"Since…well, I'm not so sure, but why do you care?" Arthur walked past Alfred, intent on going home. He was soon met by Francis who was approaching the garage quickly a relieved look on his expressions.

"Ah! _Mon amour_, I was beginning to worry," Francis pulled Arthur into a one armed hug, though still kissing the other on the temple. Blushing, Arthur began complaining, though the small smile wasn't missed by either Alfred or Francis. "Make his post-flight happiness count," Francis winked at Alfred and turned with Arthur, his arms still slung over Arthur's shoulders. Alfred sulked a little at how happy Arthur seemed with Francis, but then again, it was his after flight high.

He was soon left alone standing in front of the garage as the light turned off, it's motion sensors finding no movement, thus, powering the garage down. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Alfred sulked back to his truck, Liberty nosing at his pocketed hand in hopes of earning a treat, though aware of Alfred's forlorn mood.

"Hey Liberty…do you think Arthur would like me? Like…like…more than a friend?" Alfred blushed at the thought and for asking his dog, but hey, he was getting lonely here. His dad's dog simply nosed at his hand once more, this time trying to get him to pet her, probably thinking that it'd make Alfred happy too if he petted her. With a sigh, Alfred nudged her nose away, ushering the police dog into the passenger seat before walking around the vehicle to open the door to the driver's seat which Liberty had jumped into. Smiling and letting out a small chuckle, Alfred nudged Liberty back into the passenger's seat and drove off. "Hey Liberty…is it okay to be jealous of Francis?"

When Alfred returned home, looking depressed, Matthew assumed the worst. He was about to set into full panic mode before Alfred waved it off, announcing that he had found Arthur, though Francis had taken him off before dragging himself into his room, muttering something along the lines of 'French sex' and 'being jealous'. Matthew blushed at Alfred's words, but was soon struck with the faint feeling of hurt at the mention of Francis being with Arthur. He could simply slouch in his seat and return half of his attention to the television in front of him.

Alfred flopped onto his bed stomach first, grunting loudly as he did so and Liberty jumping up onto the bed with him. His dad had told him to never let Liberty up on the bed, but he let her up anyways, she was warm and was very good to sleep with, for she was always to cuddly. He wondered if Arthur was the cuddly type before turning bright red and burying his face in Liberty's fur, uttering things to himself. Then the sour thought of Francis knowing the answer to his question made his blush disappear.

With a grunt, Alfred reached up and flicked the lamp light off, uttering a slurred 'good night' to himself and his dad's dog.

XXX

Much to Arthur's rage, he found himself wake up, naked and next to Francis who was carefully watching him.

"Good morning _mon amour_."

_Smack!_

XXXX

**Mon amour – My love**

**Douce – Sweet**

**Vous parlez Français? – Do you speak French?**

**Bonjour – Hello (you should know what that means)**

**Aucun – No**

**So, how do you like this one? Hope you did like it, because I worked for a while on this one and I'm kinda tired. Lol, again, this isn't proof read. I really should start proof reading the chapters for this story, it's probably throwing it off a bit…Ha, ha, I feel so happy with how this one turned out, though I might hate it first thing in the morning...it happens to me a lot. I love something so much and then the next day, when I look back on it, I'm like 'Uh…eww…I hate how that turned out…' Though I do feel that it's kind of…lacking…**

** Well other than that, you should know the norm: please review, I love to hear what you guys have to say :) Peace out my friends.**


	4. Chapter 4

** Lol, it just suddenly got quiet here…oh well, I really detest how the last chapter went, so I'm going to try my best in making up for it with this one, though nothing really happens. It's mostly just Mattie and Alfred talking like old men :) Enjoy.**

**XXXX**

Alfred coughed when he poked his head through the trap door that led into the attic to his house. It was dusty and full of…stuff…and it all looked old too; probably some of his grandparents' stuff they had decided to dump into their hands. It was also hot and stuffy up there, making his sweat shirt very uncomfortable despite it being November and in Minnesota—the snow was expected to start falling by mid-November, about a week from now. Alfred was excited.

Ducking back down and lowering himself down the latter, Alfred sneezed once he ruffled all of the dust his hair had trapped, dreading having to go back up there to start cleaning. The task seemed borderline impossible with how thick the dust was.

"Hey Mattie, could you come help me with the attic, I think I'll start up top and work my way down," Alfred called for his cousin's assistance. He had decided to finally clean his house as a favor to his parents with his dad being on constant, yet spontaneous, police duty and his mother travelling the country on business trips. He heard Matthew's reply and waited for his Canadian relative to arrive.

Sliding down the wall in the hallway, Alfred let loose a huge exhale of air. The thought of Arthur being with Francis hadn't left his mind alone at all ever since Halloween and it was quite taxing, having been distracted the whole week by the two friends…or probably more. Unfortunately, he didn't exactly know _why_ it bothered him. Maybe it was the fact that they were both guys, but he wasn't disgusted by it, so that probably wasn't his problem. Just thinking about it was just…

Matthew announced his arrival by slumping down next to Alfred, a broom and dust pan had been set against the wall they had their backs rested against. They remained in silence. Alfred soon thought that asking Matthew why he was having such trouble lately would be a good idea, so he decided he should voice his thoughts sooner or later.

"Hey, you want to invite anyone for Thanksgiving? I'm making the invitations and phone calls," the Canadian announced, Alfred chuckling quietly to himself about the fact that Matthew was already planning for a holiday that was about two and a half weeks from now, maybe more. "You could invite Arthur you know?"

"Nah, I'll only invite him if our relationship is on good terms by then," Alfred waved his hand in the air. The way he had worded that made Matthew roll his eyes before he began to tinker with his watch a bit out of boredom. "Is my mom gonna be home for Thanksgiving? She hasn't been able to attend for the last…oh…four years," Alfred asked, hoping that Matthew knew his busy mother's schedule. Matthew sent him a sympathetic smile before shaking his head.

"Your mom said she'd be in Nebraska," silence followed.

"…Hey Mattie…why does the thought of Francis and Arthur being together bother me? I mean, I know they're both guys, but for some reason it doesn't bother me…it's just the idea…you know what I mean right?" Alfred turned his head to look at his cousin who had a thoughtful look pasted to his facial features. He waited silently and a little impatiently for his cousin to come up with an answer. He didn't want to interrupt the others thoughts—Matthew's thinking process was very fragile mind you.

"Well…I kind of know what you're talking about…is it because Francis is…uh…how do I put it?"

"Perverted?"

"Shut up," Matthew grunted quickly, whacking Alfred halfheartedly on the shoulder before clasping his hands together and ducking his head down. Alfred could be fooled into thinking that his Canadian cousin was praying, but he wasn't, it was a posture he held whenever lapsing into deep thought. Adjusting his glasses so they weren't so close to the tip of his nose, Alfred leaned forward and peered at Matthew as if trying to get a look at the expression on his face. "All I can come up with is the likelihood of you being jealous."

"What? Why would I be jealous?" tilting his head to the side in confusion, Alfred frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back into the wall as Matthew straightened his back out and leaned back against the wall as well. Matthew remained silent, thinking Alfred's question over and over until his mind didn't want to focus on it any more. He wasn't exactly fond of his answer, but it was the only way he could word it at that point.

"I…I truly don't know…I think you just want Arthur's attention since you say he's kind of cold towards you but not Francis," Matthew shrugged his shoulders as if it was no big deal. Alfred sighed lightly enough for it to be inaudible to Matthew, hunching over, yeah Arthur was kind of a cool guy, with having the ability to fly a plane and all, but other than that, he was a damn stick in the mud and unbearably boring. He didn't even play a sport! Then he thought about the fact that he was trying to get a ride in the Brit's aircraft. Maybe that was it, he was just trying to get a free ride out of him, but when he thought about that, it just sounded selfish and jack assish.

"Yeah, I'm trying to get a ride in his plane though, haven't been in a double wing plane or whatever they're called," Alfred smiled sheepishly at how dumb the idea sounded. "He always says no, but hey, you know me…never back down from a challenge if you can call this one…" he trailed off.

"Just leave him alone on that one, hopefully sometime in the future he'll let you ride in his plane…and…and just if…if Francis and Arthur _are_ in a relationship, then leave that alone too," Matthew replied solemnly, resting his cheek on his knee as he himself adjusted his glasses.

"You sound kinda angry about it too…" Alfred pointed out, though in more of a concerned way than defensive. Matthew didn't move at Alfred's statement and the two settled with just sitting in silence. Alfred had completely forgotten about the chore he was going to start just a few minutes ago. "Mattie? Could you do me a favor and please stay away from that Francis guy? I can just _see_ his wrong intentions…Who knows…he might jump on you someday…"

"Alfred…" Matthew ground out in his warning voice, irritation flashing in his almost violet eyes. Alfred just stared back at his cousin, not backing down, sky blue clashing with dark blue. "What do you have against him?" Matthew suddenly asked, his voice sounding hurt and defeated in the slightest. Alfred was a little surprised at how drastically his tone had changed and suddenly felt guilty for accusing Francis of something he might not even do.

"He just…has this strange vibe is all…" he answered, his voice as well, sounding a little crushed. "But please, if you _do_ end up in something with him, be careful," Alfred warned, more sternly now so he could get his point across. Matthew smiled and thanked Alfred for understanding and joking about him sounding like his mother before another silence settled in between them. They really didn't have much to talk about now that they've gotten those two topics figured out.

"Hey Al…I'm just curious but…what are you looking for in someone? You know…_the one_?" Matthew asked, again, out of the blue, his cheeks tinting a light shade of red from embarrassment at the strange and sudden question. Yes, the question sounded sappy, but his curiosity had started to nag at him after he had thought over their conversation about Francis and Arthur. "I want someone who'll take me places ya know? And still care about me…I want to go somewhere, 'cause I'm just boring ol' Mattie…heh…" he smiled to himself, feeling horribly defeated on the inside.

"You're not boring," Alfred grinned, pulling his cousin into a one armed hug, ruffling his slightly wavy hair in the process. Matthew chuckled and thanked his American cousin once more before awaiting Alfred's answer to his question if he remembered that he had been asked one at all. "…I want someone who won't judge me for what I do and say because you know how much of a ditz I am," he chuckled at his own vocabulary before continuing. "But I also want them to have a sense of fun right? Go out and live ya know? Man, I feel old," Alfred burst into a fit of giggles and Matthew snorted, punching Alfred playfully on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we are old men."

"But I'm only seventeen!" Alfred wailed in mock horror. After a good laugh, the two calmed down and sat there in the hallway, awaiting the next topic to be brought up. "Hey Mattie? Sorry if this is kind of a personal thing, but…what's it like to be uh…gay?" Alfred's cheeks tinged a slight red at the word, not having used it much at all in his life. Matthew's expression fell slightly and he turned to stare at the floor in front of him, thinking over how to answer Alfred's question.

"It's…kind of rough with all of the misunderstandings that relate to homosexuals. I've been bullied ever since middle school and someone almost raped me," Alfred's expression turned to one of pure rage, but Matthew ignored it and continued. "It's also hard to find someone that'll like you back you know? They could be straight for all you know and if you spill the beans well…they're spilled…it's hard. But in my opinion, I think there's absolutely nothing wrong with being gay Alfred," Matthew turned to give a stern look at his American relative.

"That's easy for you to say, giving that you're the one with the problem…not that it's a problem!" Alfred wailed at the look Matthew sent him, waving his hands frantically. "I'm just not so sure about it, I mean yeah, I've seen a few cases of it, but never really thought much about them and it doesn't really bother me, but then again…it just kinda gets in my head and rots," Alfred scrunched his nose at his choice of words. "Sorry Mattie, that came out wrong."

"No, it's fine, I understand what you're trying to tell me," Matthew nodded his head once. "So…where are you on terms of homosexuality?"

"I'm not sure…I guess I'm neutral right now," Alfred sighed, resting his chin in the palms of his hands. He hoped he hadn't offended Mattie in any way, he wouldn't be able to survive this cruel world if Matthew left him. They were the best of friends and Matthew helped him with his daily needs like a housewife, though he was kind of being a bad host for making Matthew do it all. Maybe he'd start helping out a bit more from now on. He could microwave things, so that was at least something he could help out with. He'll even work extra hard on cleaning the house—"Oh, shit Mattie, we have to start cleaning, we just sat and talked for however long, c'mon, let's go," Alfred urged, climbing up the latter that led one through the trap door into the attic as Matthew scolded him for his language.

Alfred coughed when his face was met by a huge cloud of dust that refused to settle, sticking to his glasses and getting into his lungs. Matthew did the same when he got up, waving his hand in front of his face only to make his problem worse.

"Jeez dude, we _really_ need to clean this place up…might even need four people to do this safely…" Matthew half joked, still cringing in pain as his lungs tried to force out the dust that had settled in them. Alfred pulled the collar of his shirt over his face in an attempt to filter the air, having taken his sweat shirt off in the hallway.

He started with a large box that was on top of, what a surprise, more boxes that were larger than itself. Though he was kind of curious to what was in them. Opening one up, Alfred peeked into it to get a glimpse of its contents—papers, and lots of 'em and not to mention old. He felt a little disappointed, but examined the papers anyways, they looked like documents, though, there were a few faded photos here and there.

Picking one up, he examined the smiling faces that were displayed. It was strange, because none of them were recognizable, probably photos of his grandparents as children. He daintily picked up one of the papers, doing his best to keep it from being damaged any further.

Finding that box rather boring, Alfred picked it up and set it near the trap door, returning to another box to look through. Matthew was still standing in the middle of the attic, probably wondering what to do about all of the dust permeating the air. Peeking inside the new box, Alfred was satisfied when he spotted an old rifle—and it dated back to World War Two.

"Sweet! Mattie, this thing could bring in some serious cash!" Alfred piped, picking up the weapon and unknowingly squeezed the trigger. Who knew it was still loaded and ready to fire? The sound of the gunshot, with it being in the attic, was extremely loud, Matthew yelping, stumbling back and falling through the trap door comically, though the sound of his crash wasn't comical. Alfred's heart was pumping and his hands had begun to sweat, not noticing that his cousin had just fallen through the floor.

_Shit, shit, shit_, was all that ran through his mind as he stared at the hole the bullet had created in the roof. His mother would murder him and a whole squad of police would probably be at their front door within ten minutes. With slow, frightened movements, Alfred struggled to figure out how to check if the firearm was still loaded with more rounds, his hands shaking.

"Dude, don't do that!" Matthew almost sobbed as his head poked into the attic from below. A large bump was already starting to form on the side of his cranium and he kept rubbing at his shoulder. "Remember what your dad said? _Always treat a firearm as if it were loaded and always check to see if it's loaded_!" Matthew wailed, on the border of hysterics. Alfred ended up having to apologize over and over until it got through the bump forming on Mattie's head.

"Oh…and Mattie? Um…" Alfred couldn't bring himself to say anything else, having to just point his index finger at the hole the bullet had created before the look of pure terror was etched onto Matthew's face. "Eh, heh…my mom's gonna kill us…or probably my dad, whichever one gets home first…"

The two simply dropped their task and covered the hole from the inside before Alfred helped Matthew onto the roof to cover the outside as well. This would _never_ be mentioned to his parents, no sir, the two had agreed on that as they taped up the house literally. Once they got that task done, Alfred and Matthew decided to clean Alfred's room instead, finding it a lot easier since it was mostly trash and magazines, not loaded guns. Alfred began worrying about there being a grenade in attic and started having a minor panic attack, Matthew having to heat up a cheeseburger for him to calm down _and _smack him upside the head. Alfred not knowing that a cheeseburger was being made was like, the end of the world.

Alfred's snack was interrupted when the doorbell rang. Matthew answered and reentered the kitchen with a pale face and muttering about the police being there. They had to explain to about ten policemen that Alfred had just found a gun and had been unsafe with not checking for ammunition. The police reluctantly left, warning Alfred to not repeat his actions before driving off silently.

The rest of their day was a little less hectic and Alfred now had one hell of a story to tell Kiku and maybe even Arthur.

XXXX

**Yeah, I know it's about 1,000 words short, but hey, this is what I had in the outline. Hey! And I proof read it :D Lol, it's taken three chapters for me to start proof reading the chapters before posting…Hopefully this made up for that shittastic chapter before this one. Ugh, just the thought of it makes me cringe mentally…So yup, yup, please review, haven't heard from many of you last chapter and peace out my friends :) **


	5. Chapter 5

** I've somehow managed to get myself interested in Steampunk…Uh…that's all I have to say :) So yeah, congratulations, you may be looking forward to Pilot!Arthur again because I'm dying to get that one written up. I'm already working on the outline…barely made a dent though, so yeah. I'll get that up once I finish this or 'Don't Let It Get To Your Head'. So yeppers, enjoy.**

**XXXX**

Alfred merrily approached Arthur and you could almost see the skip in his step. All Arthur could do was cock an eyebrow at the happy young man and let him approach his table. The American plopped down unceremoniously, slamming his food tray onto the table with an audible 'tak'.

"Why are you so jolly?" Arthur questioned once Alfred got himself settled in his seat across from the Brit.

Alfred grinned. "Who the hell uses jolly anymore? Anyways, I'm kinda stuck on house cleaning, would you like to come over and help me out?"

"Why in bloody hell are you happy about house cleaning? And no, I will most certainly _not_ go over to your home and help," Arthur answered, crossing his arms in refusal. "If you're unorganized enough to mistake your calculus work for your English essay, I dread seeing what your home looks like," he continued coldly, unfolding his arms to resume eating his lunch. Alfred pouted for a short moment before starting on his lunch loudly and without showing any manners. Arthur wanted to stand up and leave the table with how Alfred was currently shoveling his food down his throat like a paper shredder. He kept himself from doing so, for every other table was full and they weren't allowed outside now that it was November.

"C'mon Artie, it'll be some great bonding time, Mattie will even help us out!" Alfred piped happily, a small chunk of food flying out of his mouth and landing in front of Arthur, on his food tray. Disgusted, he squashed a napkin over it so he wouldn't have to see it whenever he looked down at his tray. "And I shot a gun that's from World War Two! Pretty sweet neh? Eh…but I ended up putting a hole in my roof…"

"I doubt it dates back to World War Two Alfred," Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes and refusing to believe Alfred who was SO the type to make up stories like a young child would when searching for attention.

"No, I'm serious, you should've seen the thing, looked kinda ancient," Alfred paused to shovel more food into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. "Makes a loud bang," he added as if it would prove the firearm to be legit. Arthur rolled his eyes once more and resumed eating, wanting to leave the table because of Alfred's manners, but not wanting to leave because Alfred was just…intriguing with the way he acted and what he had to say every now and then. Alfred was interesting enough to keep Arthur seated other than the fact that all tables were occupied by gits. "So, you wanna come?"

"It's you 'want to' not 'wanna', that's not even a word, git."

"Well Microsoft Word doesn't try to correct it, so I say it's a word," Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "So is that a yes?"

"Don't get too hopeful, I would never go over to your house to clean it, that's your job."

Arthur found himself being drug off to Alfred's abode anyways. He had been yelling profanities at the American idiot the whole trip, Alfred having decided to take the trip by foot instead of the bus. Arthur was still yelling at Alfred even at his doorstep, but his voice was getting sore from all of the abuse his vocal cords were being dealt. Alfred simply laughed at Arthur and told him that he was good at yelling. That made the Brit blush for some absurd reason.

"Come on, I could just use some help," Alfred grinned. That wasn't true though, he had actually just wanted to spend more time with the moody Brit. So he had decided that dragging him off to his house would be a good idea, although the cleaning part was mostly true.

"No you do _not_ need my help, I'm bloody sure that you're just doing this as a form of torture! Now let me go damn it!" Arthur wailed, cringing at how much it hurt his throat, but went with ignoring it. Alfred just smiled broadly once more and opened the door to his house, pulling Arthur inside.

One would mistake Alfred for kidnapping Arthur the way he drug the Brit up the stairs and to the trap door which had been pulled open. He forced Arthur up first before following soon after, amused how he hadn't warned Arthur about how bad the dust up there was when the other blond coughed and cursed at the American.

"You could've at least told me about the dust git," Arthur growled, waving his arms around in an attempt to wave away the dust, only making the problem worse much like Matthew had done yesterday. Alfred brought himself over to the pile of boxes he had found the rifle in and began sifting through them once more. More old stuff. Great.

Arthur sighed and approached Alfred, opening the box next to the young man. He was surprised at what he found in it. There was an extremely old tea pot along with a few papers and an American flag that was horribly faded and tattered. Tilting his head in curiosity, Arthur extracted the flag carefully and unfolded it, gasping at what he had unearthed.

"A-Alfred, how in bloody hell did you get a hold of one of _these_?" Alfred shut the box and turned to get a look at what Arthur was freaking out about. The Brit had a good reason to be shocked, because Alfred's heart leapt into his throat in excitement at what he saw. There, in Arthur's hands, was one of the very first American flags after their independence from Great Britain. Thirteen stars arranged in a simple circle on navy blue paired with thirteen stripes. It was in terrible condition, but where else would you find one of _these_?

"Dude! That's _so_ cool!" Alfred piped, snatching the outdated flag from the Brit's hands and jumped out of the attic via the trap door. Arthur barked angrily when Alfred took the flag and followed after him, warning Alfred that it was old and that it could be damaged easily if he weren't careful with it. "Dad! Check this out! Check this out!" Alfred wailed, waving the flag proudly. "Artie found this! It's one of the _first_ American flags!"

"Ah, yes, that is you great, great, great, great, great grandfathers," Richard, Alfred's father, smiled proudly, taking the flag from his son and examining it. Arthur looked surprised at how the Jones family had managed to preserve such history. Alfred though, wore a rather blank expression at what his father had said.

"How many greats was that?"

"Five you git."

After the excitement of finding the old flag had died down, Arthur and Alfred returned to cleaning the attic. Arthur's eyes were watering from the dust that got in then and he wished that he had physically harmed the American when he was dragging Arthur to his house. The attic was torturous.

They had found something dating back to almost every single historical event that had occurred to the US of A. Arthur was no longer surprised when he found something important, it was now more like 'ugh, not again'.

"Consider yourself lucky to have so much history in your attic Alfred. Not every kid can say that they have the flag of the Confederate states of America," Arthur sighed as he folded up a thin, handmade quilt, eyeing the flag he had mentioned which rested in the box he placed the quilt in. Alfred rubbed his chin as he opened another box, finding another one full of journals and documents. He had read a journal out loud and had much trouble with how bad the handwriting was—it dated back to the Civil War.

"Don't you have anything for England?" Alfred asked, closing the flaps of the cardboard box and hauling it over to the large stack of boxes waiting next to the trap door. "I mean…uh…armor or something?" Alfred let out an 'oof' as he dropped the heavy box on top of another.

"No, unfortunately not," Arthur closed the box he had just opened and required Alfred's assistance with moving it.

"I'm surprised you didn't just leave. I would've let you," Alfred pointed out, changing the subject. Arthur paused to look at the American, giving him a look that clearly read 'are you fucking kidding me?' or 'are you bloody kidding me?', to make it sound more British. Alfred simply grinned dumbly at his friend…well he considered Arthur his friend, he wasn't sure if the other thought the same.

"With the way you acted, I'm not sure you would've let me leave, that's why I didn't even try," Arthur snorted, making sure his doubt was clear in his voice. Alfred pouted before returning to his box hauling, having gotten a little bored of finding paper filled boxes. Arthur seemed to be finding all of the good stuff anyways.

"Hey, did you know my grandma on my mom's side knew Edward R. Murrow?" Alfred half bragged, sending Arthur a toothy grin, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Arthur just smiled at the familiar name and resumed his box digging. Alfred did the same, though more reluctantly now that he was getting bored with sitting in the dusty attic. He wanted to play video games right now, but he had to get this done. He had called Matthew over about an hour ago and it didn't seem like the other was bent on getting there any time soon. "Hey, if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?" a spontaneous question.

That was an easy question for Arthur though. "A new plane would be nice, but that's kind of expensive," he answered. Alfred chuckled at Arthur's answer, of course the pilot would like a new plane, what did Alfred expect?

"How old is your plane by the way?" he asked, suddenly curious. Arthur cocked an eyebrow in suspicion, but straightened up to face the American properly.

"All I can tell you is that Francis loaned it to me."

"Oh really?" Alfred asked, his mood getting a tad sour at the mentioning of the French teen, but pushed it down. "Could you give me an estimation?"

"Ah, I believe it's almost twelve years old, also, it's an old model," Arthur sighed. "I'll need a new one sooner or later no? Like cars, it'll break down sooner or later," he continued, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal. Alfred knew better than that though, the Brit probably loved the plane as much as one would love their dog. "Just don't be stupid and get me one though, a book would be perfectly fine," silence followed after that. A brief one though.

"…Do you want your mom back?" he was hesitant in asking this question, but it came out anyways. He didn't want to pry, but he was curious. Of course Arthur would want his mother back, but he wanted to hear the British teen's thoughts on it. Arthur stilled and remained silent, staring down at whatever was being held in his hands. "I-I'm sorry if it's kinda personal, I'll just dro—"

"Yes, I would love to have my mother back," the reply was quiet and rough from all of the yelling earlier and the stress the question put on Arthur. "I would do anything to turn back time to keep her from getting hit that day…" Alfred gulped at the thick regret in Arthur's voice. "If only I would've talked to her for ten seconds longer, it would've probably never happened," he watched the other sink to the ground and cry into himself. Hesitantly, Alfred approached the Brit and, with even more hesitation in fear of him lashing out at the American, Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur. He expected for the other to yell at him or violently pull away, but instead, Arthur did quite the opposite. He clung to Alfred and buried his face into Alfred's chest. He was now hugging the 'stick up the ass' pilot Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur sat at the dining table in Alfred's house, still a little shaken from his crying in the attic as Alfred made him some tea. Alfred's mother was a tea drinker, and being the stereotypical guy he was, Alfred offered him tea because he thought all British people liked tea. Lucky for him, Arthur did, he if didn't, Arthur would've yelled at him until he lost his voice, which wouldn't take long giving that it would give out at any moment.

Matthew had arrived when Alfred was guiding Arthur into the kitchen, confused as to why Arthur was crying. The relative of Alfred, though, didn't pry into it.

"Here, sorry if I didn't make it the way you like it. Don't exactly know how to make tea…" Alfred mumbled, setting a mug of steaming hot tea in front of Arthur who quietly thanked him, picking up the mug and taking a sip. "Is it fine?" Alfred asked, the hope visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. Arthur set the cup down quietly and nodded his head before wordlessly staring at his hands, deep in thought.

There was a brief buzzing in Arthur's pocket, making him jump slightly. Shoving his hand into his pocket, Arthur fished out his mobile and flipped it open, finding that he had a new text from Francis.

**[French Pervert]**

**Ah, Angleterre, how is the 'cleaning house' going with Alfred?**

Arthur sighed. He could just _hear_ the perverted tone in the French teen's voice. The damn guy either had Alfred tell Francis that he was dragging Arthur off to his house to clean by phone, or the bloody bastard had seen him being drug off when he drove by, hearing Arthur screaming about not wanting to clean Alfred's damn house. Arthur rubbed his thumb over the key pad for a short moment before typing in his reply. He really didn't want to deal with Francis right now.

**[Angleterre]**

**Sod off. Boy's got the whole damn American history in his attic. Rather impressive, Revolutionary war, Civil war, WWI, WWII, you name it. Asked about my mom though…**

Francis smiled at the text. At least Arthur had replied to his text. Apparently, Arthur had somehow ebbed out of his enraged state since the guy never texted when thoroughly peeved. Maybe Alfred had done something to make the guy happy? Well, that was Francis's original thoughts until he read the part about the dense American asking about Arthur's mother. It was a really touchy topic for Arthur, Francis knew that from experience.

**[French Pervert]**

**Anything else happen in the attic ;)**

Arthur rolled his eyes. Francis had completely ignored most of his reply and went straight to interrogating him on what happened with Alfred. He would never tell the pervert about him breaking down and Alfred comforting him though—that was clearly asking for trouble, so he went with a text he sent Francis almost daily.

**[Angleterre]**

**Go die.**

Francis grinned this time. This was a reply he received from Arthur on a regular basis. Every day, Francis would text Arthur during school just to peeve him and hopefully get him in trouble. He loved having angry sex with the Brit. Ever since their deal, Arthur had warmed up to the idea and the two had been at it often. Francis was rather proud of himself.

**[French Pervert]**

**Ah, so something DID happen?**

**[Angleterre]**

**Go die.**

Francis burst out into laughter here. Arthur had never sent this text twice in a row, so something must've happened to make him this secretive.

**[French Pervert]**

**So blunt. So how was the sex?**

_Damn that frog for jumping to such conclusions!_ Arthur's mind wailed, snapping his cellular shut and tossing it at the wall, barely missing Alfred who screamed in a rather _manly_ way. The American sent him a horrified, yet extremely confused look which was also paired with loads of hurt. Mentally facepalming, Arthur let out an exasperated sigh.

"Francis is just being a bloody bastard, I have nothing against you," he sighed, resting his forehead on the table. Alfred sheepishly retrieved Arthur's phone and set it next to the Brit's head. Matthew watched the exchange before excusing himself from the kitchen. Soon after, Arthur sighed once more before standing up. "I have to fly," Alfred smiled at the statement that had a double meaning.

"Would you mind if I come?" Alfred asked, hoping that Arthur would let him come and watch. He already knew that he wouldn't be able to get a ride until Arthur offered it, so he just settled with wanting to watch the other fly. "I mean, I'm not going to ask for a ride, I just want to watch you fly," he cleared up when Arthur sent him an irritated look. Arthur's cheeks tinted a slight red before he thought it over.

"Uh…sure…" he finally answered, Alfred fist pumping and Arthur immediately regretting letting the other come with, giving that Alfred would be driving him there. Most of the time, he preferred to walk and enjoy his time, but now he had to ride with this American git. Though he didn't expect to be hugged again.

Arthur wondered why he even hung out with these kind of people.

XXXX

**Yay, there's the fifth chapter I think :) I don't really have much to say other than last night was terrific. Went off to a Barnes & Noble bookstore and got a book on London and Tokyo since I plan on living in both for about two to four years when I finish college. Also got a book on Steampunk as a reference so I could get some knowledge on it for the new story I'm working on. Man, that new story if being worked on **_**hard.**_** I've never written such a big outline and it's barely even started. Ha, ha, I hope I see some of you there, I'm so excited to get it started, but I can't. Lol, what's funny, is that I already have the sequel idea ready for it if I feel like writing a sequel to it. I'm so strange…And look! This is proof read! :D**

** Well, other than that huge rant that I didn't expect to pull out of thin air, please review. Haven't heard from many of you and I'm wondering what you guys are thinking since I'm getting little opinions…It's hard to work on this when I've got no feedback. Peace out my friends ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

** Hello my lovely bowl of goldfish :D Lol, I don't even know what to say after that. Well, actually I do. If you want to know where I got that, it was on a summer trip to Florida with my church peeps (who are amazing :D), and so we had to do this one thing called the Circle of Love where you must say something nice to everyone there. It was really hard since I didn't know a majority of them. So we started at midnight (you do it on the last day of the trip which is in Wisconsin) and ended at about five in the morning, so I didn't get any sleep. One of my roommates woke up and was turned on the lights (everyone slept in this small building on the floor –for those who got to sleep-and those who started first luckily got some sleep) and said "Good morning my lovely bowl of goldfish". Lol, so I decided to steal her morning phrase and I've been using it ever since :D**

**Yeah, sorry if that kind of bored you…enjoy :)**

**XXXX**

**[American Idiot]**

**hey arty im bord wat clas r u in**

The one who got the message sighed, irritated that he had even given Alfred his cellular contacts and mortified at how horrible his grammar was. Rubbing his forehead, Arthur waited for the teacher to turn around and start writing on the whiteboard so he wouldn't get in trouble for texting during class hours. Looking around to make sure Lovino, Feliciano's Italian twin, wouldn't tattle on him like last time, Arthur quickly jabbed in his reply, sending it almost hastily.

**[Artie]**

**Alfred, I'm in class, please refrain from texting me. You're grammar is atrocious by the way.**

A brief moment of nothing.

**[American Idiot]**

**com on arty, don't b a prty poopr**

He would've thrown up at how horrible the grammar was. Damn Americans, why couldn't they invent their own language? They just _had_ run the wonderful English language through a meat grinder and then cook it for their God forsaken burgers didn't they? Well, those were German as far as he knew, but Arthur just didn't give a damn at the moment.

**[Artie]**

**Unfortunately, school is not a party Alfred. Please stop calling me Artie/Arty too. I have a real name. Use it.**

Arthur got a reply in an awfully short amount of time. Two seconds hadn't even passed since he had sent his reply.

**[French Pervert]**

Oh, so it wasn't Alfred.

**Good afternoon Angleterre!**

Damn that French bastard and that American idiot for running the risks so high. Arthur was trying to learn here, couldn't that get through their rather thick skulls? Well, Francis did understand that Arthur was trying to learn during school, but the guy loved his hobby of trying to get Arthur into any form of trouble possible. He was happy he had managed to get away from the police that one day Francis had—never mind.

**[Angleterre]**

**Sod off frog.**

**[French Pervert]**

**Oh, moody now are we?**

**[American Idiot]**

**But its stil fun 2 txt n clas rite**

Arthur couldn't tell if Alfred's reply was a question or a statement. Likely a question though. Arthur had also briefly forgotten what he and Alfred were talking about.

**[French Pervert]**

**Or am I interrupting something? ;)**

He would've happily thrown his mobile at the wall, but if it weren't for Lovino's accusing gaze, just waiting for him to extract his phone and his teacher now looking at her class as she explained something, he decided against doing so. Arthur resorted to sulking in his seat, dropping his head onto the desk loudly, easily earning himself a few stares. He had to lift his head back up the reassure his classmates that, no, in fact he _hadn't _died yet. Keyword being yet.

As his teacher returned to her lecturing, Arthur pulled a notebook out of his string backpack, returning to his strenuous battle against writer's block. Every now and then, he'd mutter about being surrounded by brainless wankers, those wankers being Francis and Alfred, but his class didn't know that. He should just be grateful that his teacher hadn't caught him in the act.

His thoughts then shifted to what Alfred had done for him yesterday. Despite being dense and childish, the other had known he'd dug too deep even before Arthur answered and had then comforted him when he finally did answer. Whenever he'd cry in front of Francis, which rarely happened, the French man would just leave him be, abandoning whatever building or room they were in. The frog wasn't aware that Arthur needed something opposite to some space, and Alfred had fulfilled that since he was kind of the touchy-feely type.

Smiling to himself, Arthur admitted that he'd like to be hugged by Alfred again, well, that was, until he killed that thought before it flew too high. Shut up, you didn't hear a thing. But to be honest, he was very happy when Alfred had hugged him the second time, that time probably being just on a whim. Alfred's arms were muscular from whatever work-outs he managed to fit into his schedule and he was so warm. Comfortably so. Arthur could've stayed like that forever, but alas, he had a damn life to live. A pretty crummy one at that. Shut up, you didn't hear any of that either.

Matthew sighed, his right leg bouncing out of boredom as he watched his teacher pace back and forth, talking about whatever their subject touched upon that day. It was horribly boring and for once, he wished Alfred would text him during class. The American was probably texting Arthur, but he couldn't complain, Alfred seemed pretty attached to the British stick-up-the-ass pilot. Maybe Matthew could get that Arthur guy to hook him up with that Francis guy if they quit dating or whatever they were doing at the time. He'd have to admit, he had gotten attached to Arthur's friend if he could call Francis that, at the Halloween party.

Then his thoughts swung over to whether he should invite Arthur for the Thanksgiving dinner. He had asked Alfred, but it was coming up pretty quickly and he didn't know what to do about it. He'd have to tell Arthur personally if Alfred didn't make up his mind sooner or later. Again, his brain changed the topic. What _had_ happened yesterday in between Alfred and Arthur? He'd have to ask Alfred in private during lunch since it seemed like a personal thing.

For now, Matthew just returned as much of his attention, which was exactly one tenth, to his speaking teacher, unable to understand the words coming out of his mouth. So boring. Matthew swore that he had fallen asleep with the way he suddenly realized he was staring at the wall, drool dripping onto his desk and pooling around his cheek. Okay, that was gross.

Lifting his head wearily, Matthew wiped the corner of his mouth along with his cheek before cleaning the desk up with his sleeve. Lucky for him, class was about to end in a minute. Collecting his things, Matthew stuffed most of it into his book bag, pondering how he'd ask Alfred what had happened yesterday and keep it from sounding intrusive.

When the bell rang, he bolted out of the room, trying to get as far away from that room as possible until tomorrow, where he'd be forced back in. Heading for the overly packed lunch room, Matthew stood on the tips of his toes, looking for that tell-tale cowlick that poked up from Alfred's head. They had tried to comb it down one day, but failed.

He soon decided to grab lunch first, going over to the long line of high school students.

Alfred turned to look over his shoulder when he heard his name being called. He waved happily when he saw his Canadian cousin approaching him and Arthur, who reluctantly sat across from him. Alfred scoot over as much as he could to allow the other some space on the bench like seat.

"Hey Alfred, can I talk to you about something?" Matthew looked serious. Nodding his head, Matthew set his tray down and drug Alfred off until they were out of earshot. "I know it might be a little personal and I don't want to be intrusive, but what happened yesterday? With Arthur crying and all?" he almost whispered, Alfred barely able to hear the other over the many voices surrounding them.

"I uh…asked if he'd like his mother back since earlier I had asked if he could have anything, what it would be…his mom died in a car accident with a drunk driver and…it's kind of a sensitive topic for Arthur," he answered the best he could. "I'm kinda guilty about it too Mattie," Alfred continued, staring down at his sneakers, noting that one of his laces had become undone. He bent over to tie it before straightening back up, awaiting for something else out of Matthew, though his cousin remained silent. "Ha, ha…Artie's yelling at me for texting him during class…gotta go back to him and let him finish ya know?" and with that, Alfred turned around and returned to the table Arthur was slightly fuming at.

Plopping back down in his seat across from Arthur, Alfred put up a chipper façade by greeting him with a loud and enthusiastic 'I'm back'. Arthur huffed, bit into his food and returned to yelling at him about why he shouldn't text during school hours.

"But…but Artie! You replied!" Alfred retorted, knowing well that this was a good reason to bring up.

"That's beside the point! And don't call me Artie, I have a real name git," Arthur barked, crossing his arms in a moody fashion before uncrossing them to continue with his lunch. Alfred pouted, staring down at his food and wondering whether he should shovel it, or eat like a normal person. "Plus, I had Francis on me when you were texting me, do you know how much trouble I'd get in if I was caught texting in class? Lovino's like, the phone police and my teacher takes it too seriously," Arthur continued, watching Alfred stare at his food thoughtfully.

"But don't you even like me?" Alfred asked, giving Arthur that kicked puppy look he was so infamous for. Seriously, he shouldn't be able to pull that off anymore giving that he was turning eighteen next year. When the sentence finally registered in Arthur's mind, his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Of course the exposure to Francis would make him think that.

"No I don't," lie. He was such a horrible liar. Alfred was either acting, or was _really_ dense, for he looked like he was about to cry when Matthew reappeared.

"Oh, and I almost forgot, but Arthur, do you want to come over to Alfred's for our Thanksgiving dinner? If you're busy, you don't have to, but I'm telling you just so you know the offer's up in the air," Matthew announced, sitting down in front of his own tray of food. The Canadian relative of Alfred had probably forgotten that he had set his tray of food at their table.

Arthur thought over the question. No, he wasn't busy, a majority of his family lived in England and he and his father couldn't rake up enough money to fly there. Plus, his father drank on holidays, lonely and angry. The guy was an angry drunk, but not to the point of being abusive. He just talked and talked and talked in a hateful way. Whether he was being truthful or not, Arthur could never tell.

"Uh…sure, I'm not busy and my dad's kind of a handful when dru—Alfred!" he wailed when he was pulled into a hug, the only thing separating him and Alfred from each other being the table. He had concluded earlier that he liked Alfred's hugs, but not these kind! "Let go you insufferable git!" Arthur managed to wiggle out of Alfred's embrace, both sitting back down, Arthur blushing and Alfred grinning.

"I knew ya liked me Artie! And I have a real name too! I'll give you a hint! It's not git," Alfred whooped, bouncing in his seat, though looking mischievously at Arthur. Damn guy had just used his own complaints against him, maybe he wasn't so dumb after all. Matthew's expression suddenly changed to one of confusion as Arthur's face burst into the color red, if it was from embarrassment or anger, he could never tell. Alfred was just spontaneous, that all Arthur could conclude.

XXX

Alfred and Francis both had their heads tilted back in an almost painful position, watching the silver Boeing fly through the air with ease. It was freezing outside too, the temperature having dropped to twenty nine Fahrenheit, but that was Minnesota for you, and it'd only get colder. Alfred visibly shivered while Francis seemed immune to the cold.

"How can he fly in this weather?" Alfred almost wailed, hugging himself tighter in an attempt to preserve his body heat, rubbing his arms while he was at it. He was so cold. Cold, cold, cold, cold, so FUCKING COLD! He hated the winter time, the only thing that made it worth it was the fact that when the snow started falling, you could sit by the fire place and drink hot chocolate 'til your heart's content.

"He shouldn't even be flying a plane with an open cockpit," Francis remarked, shaking his head slowly. "November through April he shouldn't be, but that won't stop him. It's not a rule either, it's just a thing some pilots follow _mon ami_," this time he nodded his head, rubbing at his numb ears for a brief moment before letting his hands drop to his sides. The guy wasn't even wearing gloves! Alfred shifted his weight onto the other leg, feeling a little uneasy around Francis. "Dear _Angleterre_ loves his plane too much though, to neglect it for a winter."

Alfred was happy when Arthur landed his plane about an hour after he and Francis had spoken. He was freezing his butt off and he couldn't wait to get home and cuddle with Liberty. Maybe even—

"Hi Artie!" Alfred barked happily, jogging over to Arthur with quite a bit of enthusiasm and in an attempt to warm himself up. Francis just grinned coolly and approached the Brit who had just pulled his aviators goggles off of his head and tossed them into the cockpit, not quite ready to drive the plane into the hangar yet.

"Hello Alfred. Francis," Arthur nodded his head at both of them, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Arthur, your propeller is loose," Francis pointed out. He was happy he was Arthur's mechanic because he was competing for the Brit with Alfred. Unknowingly mind you. He was satisfied with the slightly peeved look Alfred sent Francis. Alfred originally thought that Francis was just making that up to get him irritated, but alas, the French guy was correct, because when Arthur tested the propeller by tugging at it, the thing wobbled and almost threatened to fall off. "That is dangerous _mon amour_."

"I am aware of that Francis," Arthur smiled thankfully, jumping back into the cockpit to drive the aircraft into the hangar.

Alfred stood just outside, watching Arthur and Francis make repairs to whatever was wrong with Arthur's plane. He also noted that they were standing undeniably close to each other too, though he excused it as them trying to get warm. Then again, Alfred could feel the warmth from the hangar all the way over to where he was standing. Frustrated and peeved, Alfred turned briskly and left without a word. The way he was acting was so unhero like, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

Alfred had driven straight home and immediately searched for his comfort food. You should know what it is. He was mortified to find that the fridge was basically empty, and with his parents being so busy, Alfred would have to do the grocery shopping. That stunk. Well, he'd just have to ring up Matthew for some of his wonderful assistance, now would he? And so the American did.

"Hey Mattie, I'm out of food over here, could you come over to go grocery shopping with me? I'm not all that great with it believe me or not. Mom says I always ended up making her buy more junk than necessary as a kid and that I spend too much on stuff."

_"Yeah, sure, no problem Al I'm not exactly busy at the moment, so I'll be over pretty soon_," came Matthew's reply.

"Thanks Mattie, you're the best!" Alfred happily snapped his cellular shut, forgetting to say good bye to his cousin. Oh well, he'd be seeing him in a few minutes any ways now would he?

Jumping onto the couch and letting himself bounce a little on the new piece of furniture, Alfred picked up the remote and clicked the television on, channel surfing for a brief moment before finding a show that had been deemed watchable. For ten minutes, Alfred watched the protagonist chase and shoot at the antagonist, demanding that he stop until the doorbell rang.

Clicking the television off, Alfred bound over to the door and swung it open cheerfully. Wow, he mush really hate grocery shopping.

"Hi Mattie! Let's go!" he grabbed Matthew's wrist and drug him out of his house. He shoved his cousin into the passenger's seat in his truck and noticed that he had forgotten his keys. Jumping out, Alfred reentered his home and snatched the keys from the desk, pulling papers along with it and scattering them about. Yep, he really hated grocery shopping.

When they got there, Alfred had immediately went for the candy aisle, glad that Matthew was there to restrict him. He just couldn't help it. Matthew promised that he'd go get three pounds of hamburger meat for you know what. The two were on their merry way, halfway done with their food shopping when they rounded a corner and quite literally, bumped into Francis. The guy had a small box of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. Oh for the love of—

"Francis, why are you getting _just_ strawberries and whipped cream?" Alfred almost accused, recovering from his impact with the perverted French man.

"Is it not okay for me to be getting specific things for my specific reasons _mon ami_?" Francis answered Alfred's question with a question, crossing him arms. Alfred just huffed and walked off. Luckily, he didn't feel like getting junk when he was irritated. "What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure, I just think he's stressed right now," Matthew shrugged his shoulders, though his cheeks blushed crimson anyways. Francis was standing right in front of him. He must sound like a schoolgirl crushing on the hottest guy. "Anyways, what're you doing here?" Matthew questioned dumbly in a poor attempt to start a conversation. Francis cocked an eyebrow and shook the items he was holding and Matthew slapped his own forehead physically, Francis laughing at the other's actions.

"Uh…may I ask what th-they're for?" Matthew continued, his face becoming even redder, feeling like he'd melt from the heat his body was creating. "I-I-I…ah! You don't ha-ave to answer that!" Matthew cut in abruptly before Francis could give an answer, the pitch of his voice all over the place. Francis just grinned widely at Matthew's flustered actions and pat the other on the shoulder, making the Canadian jump and blush further if it was possible.

"_Mon ami_, are you okay? You're quite red, and these?" Francis lifted the items that were in his hand so Matthew knew what he was talking about. "Let's just say I'm going to have fun tonight, might have to buy a rotisserie chicken so our dear Alfred doesn't suspect anything no?" he continued chuckling and a hint of something flashing in his eyes for a brief second at whatever mental images were running through his brain. Matthew gulped and desperately tried to force the blush down.

"O-okay…" he was about to say something else when Alfred returned, one eyebrow cocked as if waiting for something else to happen.

"You gonna do anything else Francis?" Alfred asked. Matthew could hear the challenge in Alfred's voice and Matthew wondered why Alfred was getting so angry with Francis. Yeah, he had told Matthew to try to stay away from the wavy haired French man, but this wasn't a good reason to get competitive.

"Ah, in fact yes _mon ami_, tonight that is," Francis winked and strolled off. Alfred, being the dense guy he was even when irritated, didn't catch onto the hint Francis had just offered. When the young man turned on his heel and left, Alfred let out an exasperated sigh before lifting his head once more to send Matthew a sheepish smile.

"Sorry 'bout that…just kinda peeved at him for…you know," Alfred tried to explain, Matthew not exactly catching on giving that he hadn't been at the Crystal Airport when Alfred had silently fumed as Francis and Arthur fixed the propeller on the Brit's plane.

Tilting his head to the side, Matthew questioned Alfred. "Know what?" Alfred wore a blank look before realizing that Matthew hadn't been present at what he had referred to.

"Oh, sorry, Francis is kinda showing off in front of me with Artie…" he trailed off almost shamefully. Matthew sighed himself this time and ushered Alfred to the check-out, searching for anything unnecessary since Alfred had finished the grocery shopping without Matthew.

Once they had paid for everything, they loaded the bags into the backseat to Alfred's truck and settled in along with buckling in. Alfred started the vehicle and drove off in silence, pondering over if he should ask Matthew if he actually w_as_ jealous. After a while of thinking at a red light, Alfred finally decided that he should ask his cousin for advice.

"Hey Mattie? You know how you said that I was jealous of Francis yesterday?" his cousin nodded. "Well…_do_ you think I am? I felt pretty sour when I watched them fix Artie's plane and Francis was standing so close…but that could've been because of the weather…but the garage was warm so…I just don' t know Mattie, what should I do?"

"I'd just say leave it be," Matthew answered as if he was expecting for Alfred to ask this question sooner or later. He probably was too. Confused, Alfred wordlessly communicated with Matthew that he didn't understand why he should do nothing about his situation. "Alfred, it's not nice to plan someone's break-up. That's just not cool. Let it all unfold on its own, I'm sure Arthur and Francis will figure things out sooner or later and hopefully make the right choice on what to do. I mean, I'm jealous too Alfred. But we shouldn't mess with their relationship."

"…Fine."

XXXX

**Ooh, that ending is kinda iffy…Well, I hope you liked this. :) Please review, I need feedback on what you think, and I can't exactly work on this when I'm getting reviews from the same people. Lol, variety I guess. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers now can they? Peace out my friends.**


	7. Chapter 7

** Lol, I saw this Sonic commercial (the food place) with a British guy talking and it was so freaking funny because of the way he was talking :D I loled right after it. Ha, ha, hm…I'm tired. But I shouldn't complain. Enjoy :)**

**XXXX**

Arthur stared back at his own photo on a fake I.D. Francis had managed to make him. His photographed self stared just as blankly back at him, though with a deeper frown. Seriously, how did Francis manage to get a hold of these again? Maybe it was that Ludwig guy who was addicted to German beer.

Francis snickered. "Well? What do you think?" Arthur glared back at him, not knowing what to say. He didn't want to be happy, but then again, he didn't want to be ungrateful since this thing could come in handy sometime in the future. But at the current moment, Arthur saw no reason to have a fake identification card. He flipped it over, briefly staring at the back before turning it back over to stare at his picture.

"I'm not sure if I should thank, or shoot you," Arthur mulled, stuffing the piece of plastic into his pocket, not having his wallet on him at the current moment. Francis grinned and clapped his younger friend on the shoulder.

"Come now, I know a great place, we can go tonight," Francis suggested. Arthur reluctantly agreed to go too. His dad was showing signs that he'd be drinking any time soon, so why not he do it? He'd never consumed alcohol before, but he couldn't say that he wasn't curious. "Well figure out if you're a happy, sad, angry or talkative drunk," Francis added. Scowling, Arthur tapped his fingers against the I.D. that rest in his pocket before deciding that he should give punching Francis another try.

The other simply guffawed and ran off with the Englishman hot on his heels, Francis wailing about Arthur having strange mood swings, but laughing none the less.

Unfortunately, they ended outside of a bar anyways that night. Francis had his hands on his hips in a rather proud way, giving that the damn place was _French_ if it were possible. Arthur dreaded entering, but didn't complain. He had nothing better to do other than try to keep his father from drinking too much. But then again, that was no fun. Francis had promised to keep Arthur from doing anything stupid and Arthur knew the guy well enough to know that he was just going to encourage it.

"I'm really reconsidering my life now," Arthur grumbled moodily as Francis finally pulled him into the place.

"Don't worry _mon amour_, you might just end up thanking _moi_ for this!" Francis barked happily, tossing the shaggy haired blond into a stool before plopping into one himself, ordering something light for the both of them. Arthur leaned forward and rested his forehead against the counter top, grumbling sourly to himself as Francis obliviously whistled _La Marseillaise, _or, the French national anthem, to himself.

When their drinks finally arrived about a minute later, the two started swigging, Arthur flinching at the taste, having to force it down. At least he was starting to feel a tad better right? So before he knew it, Arthur had already gotten himself a second mug of alcohol, Francis not even halfway done giving that he'll be the one driving home of course.

The French guy was talking, but all Arthur could conclude was that it was likely in Chinese or Korean, for he didn't understand a single word the wavy haired blond said. Maybe it was in French, yeah, that sounded correct.

Matthew happily whistled a tune to himself as he strolled to Alfred's house, knowing that the other was walking Liberty and that he'd have to make dinner for the American. Briskly making his way through the front yard, Matthew extracted the spare key Alfred had loaned him and unlocked the door, pushing it open with his knee. Turning on a few lights so he could see better, Matthew headed immediately for the kitchen. He was about to take out a pot and start on a Cuban dish his Cuban friend had taught him until his phone began vibrating in his pocket. A bit confused at who'd be texting him at this time, Matthew pulled it out a smiled at the name. Unfortunately, his light happiness was killed, being replaced with full blown confusion at what had been texted to him.

**[Arthur]**

**got yms oer here, comm, il odr yoo 1**

Tilting his head in confusion, Matthew typed in his reply, though he couldn't help but giggle. Arthur had been yelling at Alfred about his horrible texting grammar Friday and now he turns around and does just as horribly, or worse than his American cousin. Still chuckling, Matthew hit the send and awaited a reply.

**[Matthew]**

**Are you okay Arthur?**

**[Arthur]**

**dandi;; hy i got some daysis here u want some?1ar59**

Matthew had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing like a psychotic person. Didn't want Alfred to walk in on that now do we? Well, actually, Matthew wished that Alfred was there to see this, it was hysterical.

**[Arthur]**

**And i gtt sm Frencch wyn.,**

**[Arthur]**

**yoo bastard, wahh you doing with Als fone?**

Matthew now found it funny how Arthur's proper grammar would slip in and out of the texts. But he wondered if the other even knew he was texting Alfred with how mentally unstable he sounded through the text messages he was sending. A small amount of worry nipped at the back of his mind, but Matthew ignored it, telling himself that he'd take action when it got serious.

**[Arthur]**

**Will you be my friend? M lonely n dm Frachis not mi friend., He just lkes me 44 the sx;**

**[Matthew]**

**Are you okay Arthur?**

**[Arthur]**

**Y U NO LKE ME?:**

Okay, now this was serious right? The guy sounded depressed _and _mentally ill. Maybe Matthew would have to drive over with Alfred and try to cheer Arthur up, giving that Alfred seemed to be the master at that. If it were a professional job, Matthew would sign his American cousin up for the job—he'd be a natural.

**[Matthew]**

**Arthur, please calm down and think about what you're saying. I'm not sure about what's up with you, but you don't sound good. Should I come over?**

**[Arthur]**

**Wat? Come on oer, ill toor yoo anad show you dat Big Ben..**

**[Matthew]**

**Arthur this isn't funny anymore. You're clearly delusional, probably depressed and mentally unstable. I'm coming over.**

**[Arthur]**

**dont swim)**

Matthew snapped his cellular shut and immediately left. Screw bringing Alfred along, there was something seriously wrong with Arthur. The guy was drunk, but Matthew didn't know that.

Almost literally jumping into his car, Matthew shoved the keys into the ignition and drove off, the tires to his car screeching on the pavement below. He tried his best to stay under the speed limit, but damn he was worried. If Arthur had hit his head or something in his brain had snapped, Matthew really would regret not taking Alfred along.

Driving up to the apartment which Francis had shown him one day, Matthew stepped out hastily and made his way inside. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, climbing five stories before finally making it to Arthur's small apartment home that housed the Brit and his father. Matthew then remembered when Francis told him that his dad was an angry alcoholic, which caused him to be hesitant on knocking on the door. But he did so anyways, worry dominating politeness of leaving an angry drunk alone.

When he didn't get an answer, Matthew was about to lean on the door to think. When he did so though, it was as if he had fallen right through it, though the door had truthfully never been completely shut in the first place. Rubbing his shoulder and then the side of his head, Matthew sat up before standing erect, searching the small area for a shaggy blond with large eyebrows. He found a ton of beer bottles littering the floor, though he concluded that it was Arthur's father's beers.

He was in full panic mode when he didn't find Arthur in the apartment building. Was he somewhere else without even knowing it giving that the guy sounded delusional? Had he been kidnapped? Not likely, but whatever! Matthew took a few deep breaths before shakily extracting his cellular. He had never called the police.

"_Hello, Minneapolis police department, how may I help you?" _

"U-uh…I think I have a delusional, depressed and mentally ill friend missing," Matthew's voice was barely above a whisper. The person who had answered the phone immediately asked for his address and Matthew took a moment to figure out how to give an address of the apartment building.

After the call, Matthew hung up and slumped into the couch behind him, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He barely even knew Arthur, how would Alfred react? And literally, about a minute later, a large amount of police officers had arrived. Matthew answered as many questions as he could, hoping that he wouldn't have to ring up Alfred.

"_Cher Dieu, qu'est-ce? Matthieu_ what is all this?" whipping around at the sudden sound of Francis's voice, Matthew was mortified to find the Frenchman with a either sleeping or passed out Arthur being carried on him piggy back style. Matthew blinked once, twice and three times before he bolted, apologizing to Francis and all of the officials. After a moment of silence, Francis laughed awkwardly at all of the policemen that were staring at him and Arthur. "Eh-heh, _histoire dr__ô__le_…"

Matthew slammed the door to Alfred's house shut and headed immediately for the guest room, slamming that door shut as well, holing himself in. About ten minutes later, Alfred and Liberty returned, Alfred immediately sending Liberty into the living room to sleep before letting out a large yawn himself. Why had he walked her so late at night again? Probably just a fresh air thing…nah, more like frigid air.

Alfred was slightly disappointed when he didn't find any dinner ready. Matthew had promised to make him dinner that night, had his Canadian cousin forgotten his duty, err…offer? Whatever.

"Mattie? You here?" Alfred called out, climbing up the steps to the second floor to his home. "Mattie?" Alfred knocked on the door to the guest room which was currently locked. Tilting his head in slight confusion, Alfred knocked once more, calling out Matthew's name again.

"Yes Alfred?"

"Whoa, dude you okay? You sound kinda depressed in there," Alfred became concerned at the utterly defeated tone Matthew's voice took on. He waited for a response which took quite some time for it to finally come out.

"I'm fine Alfred," Matthew opened the door. He looked fine except for that slightly red tint on his cheeks. "Come on, let's go make some dinner," Matthew redirected the subject, hoping that he could just forget this day. Alfred luckily agreed to that enthusiastically, asking what they'd be making for dinner. "We'll be making a Cuban dish my friend taught me."

"That Cuban guy? Dude, no offense, but I don't really like him…" Alfred's voice dropped to a quiet volume as if they were gossiping right in front of the person being told about. Matthew frowned at what Alfred had told him.

"You don't like a lot of my friends," true. That was true. Alfred didn't exactly get along with any of Matthew's non-hockey friends. Ivan was one example. For some reason, Matthew had managed to befriend Ivan and the Russian kid would always pick verbal fights with Alfred, who would always take it as a challenge. Another was that Gilbert guy, Ludwig's older brother. The guy had just finished college and was working at a café Matthew visited often. When Matthew had introduced Alfred to the silver haired German, the two begun arguing right off of the bat.

"Err…sorry, just…I…sorry," Alfred didn't exactly know what to say to Matthew. He couldn't just tell him to ditch them all and become friends with his circle of friends, Matthew should be able to have whatever friends he wanted. Still, they were kind of a bad influence on him. Damn, he was sounding like a parent wasn't he? "Come on, let's get this baby cookin'! I'm so hungry!" Alfred grinned at Matthew in an attempt to get the other to cheer up at the mention of food. Matthew simply smiled and began extracting whatever supplies they needed for their dinner making.

During dinner, Matthew and Alfred were completely silent, Alfred having texted Arthur about ten minutes ago, still awaiting a reply. But it wasn't anything to be concerned about. Tomorrow was Monday anyways and they were having dinner at ten 'o' clock at night. It definitely was late for a school night.

XXX

_Ouch. What the bloody hell?_ Arthur opened his eyes wearily and immediately had to shut them at how bright it was outside. Plus his head was pounding so bad he thought he'd end up dying if he didn't get rid of it soon. Groaning in pain, Arthur rolled over only to roll off of the couch.

Francis grinned to himself from the kitchen when he heard a thump and some sleepy, yet irritated complaints come from a hung over Brit in the next room over. The poor guy would die in school, that's all Francis could say. He couldn't wait to tell the perfect record teen that he was three hours late for school, but he'd have to let the guy puke out his guts first.

"Francis you bloody frog, I _know_ you're here. What the hell happened last night? You better not have snogged me," Arthur growled as he entered the kitchen, a murderous gleam shining in his green eyes. Francis's grin only widened and he threw his arm around the other's shoulder, making sure that he talked as loud as he could without it being considered yelling.

"Good morning _Angleterre!_ It's called a hangover _mon amour_."

"Stop calling me that," Arthur grumbled, pushing the Frenchman off and away from him.

"Which one?" Francis crossed his arms. His grin returned when the Brit blinked and then raced off to the toilet to vomit some more. He waited patiently for the other to return, Arthur having forgotten what Francis had just asked him mere seconds ago.

"Be useful for once and tell me what day it is," Arthur demanded, slumping into a chair and resting his head against the small dining table that was far from clean. Francis grinned, tapped his foot a few times and itched at his cheek before actually answering.

"Monday _mon amour_. You're three hours late for school," and within the time it takes for one to blink an eye, Arthur had left the building, forgetting to brush his teeth and put new clothes on. Chuckling to himself, Francis sat down at the dining table and poured himself some milk, not in the mood for any wine at the moment. Poor guy was probably going to die at school.

Arthur had ran all the way to school, flashing his school I.D. in order to gain entrance and heading straight for the main office. He was definitely going to be penalized for this, but he could still hope could he?

When he arrived at the front desk, he was basically reduced to a panting teen whose breath smelt of stomach acid and the faint scent of alcohol. The receptionist simply raised an eyebrow at him before asking for his school I.D. and the reason he was late. Since Arthur had no good reason, he simply said that he had slept in. The lady looked skeptical, but gave him a late pass anyways, excusing him to his fourth period class. He might as well just skip—

_Bad thoughts Arthur, go to class_. He scolded himself for even considering skipping class even if there was only ten minutes left of it. He was obviously going to be laughed at for how he smelt and looked, he just hoped that he didn't have any bags under his eyes. He felt like he hadn't slept at all.

Entering the class with great hesitation, Arthur slunk over to his angry looking teacher and sat himself in his desk, sinking into his seat in an attempt to just disappear into thin air. He felt horrible, and he hoped that he didn't get the urge to throw up again during school. Lunch didn't sound very appealing at the moment, which only made him even more queasy.

Arthur was about to fall asleep when the bell rang, jolting him out of his weary state. Standing up abruptly, he hastily prepared to leave, wanting to get away from Lovino and his teacher's accusing stares. It was scary, really.

Heading out the door and to the lunch room, Arthur didn't even get in line to get some food, obviously not in the mood to eat anything. He was horribly thirsty though, that was the only thing that sounded appealing at the moment…and maybe one of Alfred's hugs, but that was something completely off topic.

Turning slightly red at his thought patterns, Arthur just decided that he should shrivel up and die right on the spot. Well, that was until he heard someone seat themselves across from him. Looking, up, Arthur's spirits were lifted just a millimeter at the sight of the grinning American. Arthur wanted to smile back, but kept himself from doing so.

"Hey Artie! Wow, what did'ya do last night? You look like shit!" Alfred laughed after that, making Arthur wonder why he even tolerated this git. Sighing, he mumbled something incoherent that Alfred didn't catch because of all of the other voices surrounding them. "Dude, you okay?" now he sounded genuinely concerned. "I—if you need anything I'd be happy to help, you don't look so hot…" Alfred blushed slightly at what he had said, but didn't try to redirect it.

"A hug would be nice," was Arthur's answer. The Brit immediately froze at what he had automatically said. He was originally going to say water, but something else beat his original intentions to the punch. "Ah…sorry ab—" Arthur was cut off when Alfred had pulled the other into a hug that didn't crush the bone. More like the one that he had received in the attic. Too tired to argue (and secretly enjoying it) Arthur leaned into Alfred, closing his eyes and willing the rest of the world away. He was immediately pulled back to reality when the huge urge to vomit overcame him.

He tore out of Alfred's embrace and raced off, leaving the American utterly confused and partially alone at the lunch table.

XXXX

**Cher Dieu, qu'est-ce? – Dear God, what is this?**

**Histoire dr****ôile – Funny story**

** Ah, hah, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes (other than Artie's text messages :D), didn't proof read this chapter and I'm dead tired here. So I don't exactly have much to say other than hope you liked it and please review 'cause I need your feedback :) Peace out my friends.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys I'm back, sorry for the five day delay :P Hm, I've managed to get myself sick of all things, though I'm feeling better than I did Monday. Monday was bad. Oof, very bad. Got twelve hours of sleep though, which is good since it helped me feel a lot better :D Well, I really don't have much to say after that. Enjoy :)**

**XXXX**

Alfred and Matthew walked down the chilly streets of Minnesota, side by side, to Arthur's apartment to see said Brit and hopefully (on Matthew's half) Francis. The French young man had given Alfred Arthur's address much to the messy haired blond's dismay. Francis was likely obsessed with giving off information wasn't he? Alfred mentally noted that he'd ask the French guy for some tidbits later.

Standing in the hallway that wasn't much warmer than it was outside, Alfred knocked on the door a number of times before stepping back and waiting for an answer. He was about to knock again when a tall man answered the door, likely Arthur's dad since he had large eyebrows and shaggy blond hair. Arthur must've gotten his lean figure from his mother.

He didn't look like what most would picture an alcoholic—bad hair (worse than natural bad hair), bad teeth, horribly bloodshot eyes, whatever. No. He was pretty tall, barely taller than Alfred and if it weren't for the hang over making him ugly both on the outside and inside, he could be deemed rather handsome. His eyes were green, though a shade darker than Arthur's and he didn't have any stubble on his chin. He just looked exhausted, that's all.

"Eh, what do you want?" he asked, very obviously hung over, his British accent being slowly devoured by an American one, but still there none the less. Matthew was slightly intimidated of the guy from the start, hearing that Arthur's dad was an angry drunk according to Francis. Being hung over wasn't any better than being drunk sometimes either, for most became irritable and mean.

"We're looking for Arthur Kirkland, uh…your son?" Alfred answered and then asked, smiling sheepishly at the man. He looked like he didn't know what Alfred was talking about briefly before a light bulb almost literally appeared above his head. In a slightly negative way.

"Why do you want to talk to him? Little brat doesn't like strangers like you, so leave," Arthur's father started to shut the door, but Alfred jammed his foot into the gap to prevent him from doing so. The look on Matthew's face looked like he was going to be murdered the worst way imaginable right on the spot, but Alfred didn't see it, bold concern shining in his eyes.

"No. Now where is he?" Alfred questioned sternly, staring the man down, though not used to confronting someone taller than he. Alfred was just under six foot tall. Arthur also probably got his height from his mother.

"Alfred, let's just go," Matthew urged almost frantically, tugging on Alfred's brown leather jacket. "This is not our place to be arguing with Arthur's dad," he continued, tugging a little harder on Alfred's jacket since he had ignored his previous attempt. With a huff, Alfred pulled his now lightly throbbing foot out of the gap, which caused the door to shut since the man was still pulling on the knob.

"Hope that hit his face," Alfred grumbled moodily before turning and leaving briskly, Matthew in tow. His Canadian twin let out a relieved sigh as they descended the stair case, stuffing his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Jeez. That guy was s dick," Alfred muttered.

"He was scary," Matthew almost whined, rolling his shoulders as they stepped out of the apartment building. Neither of them looked back as they left, heading for the next place Arthur was expected to be found at: the Crystal Airport.

Alfred pulled up to the small airport and killed the engine before stepping out along with Matthew. Looking up, Matthew searched the almost cloudless sky for the Boeing Stearman Alfred spoke so much of. Probably even fondly. He was soon pulled out of his search when Alfred greeted the two and jogged ahead.

"And—" Francis was cut off when he heard Alfred's voice not too far behind him. Turning, he grinned at the sight of the American jogging over to them, Matthew not too far behind, though his jog was a little less energetic as his cousin's. He heard Arthur groan over his shoulder and chuckled. "Patients _Angleterre, _I'm sure your sweetheart has just come to give you a pre-flight kiss."

"Put a sock in it frog," Arthur hissed before lifting his head to peer at the two almost identical looking cousins. He started the ignition; just about ready to run them over if he that's what it took to make them leave him alone. Francis just _had_ to hold him up with his dumb story about meeting Matthew in the grocery store even if he had told the French frog that he had already heard it. He probably secretly knew that Alfred and Matthew were coming and had decided to hold Arthur up so the other two could hold him up as well.

"_Bonjour Francis_," Matthew greeted almost shyly as he approached the wavy haired French blond. Francis happily greeted him back in fluent French and the two fell into a conversation in French, Matthew stumbling over a few words here and there only to have Francis correct or finish it for him.

"Hi Artie!" Alfred grinned, showing off his wonderfully pearly whites despite the fact that he brushed only once a day and forgot to floss often. Arthur could just roll his eyes and utter a very unenthusiastic sounding 'hello', his head resting in his hand, a finger tapping impatiently at the goggles atop his head. "Hey, you gonna come to the Thanksgiving dinner? It's next week just so you know," Alfred asked, stopping next to Arthur's plane.

"Yes Alfred, I will be there. If you ask again, I'll make sure I _don't_ make it," Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes once more. Seriously, can't these people just leave him alone? Grinning, Alfred thanked him and started talking about what was going to be there, asking Arthur what food he liked so the other wouldn't end up eating nothing. Arthur tried to answer all of Alfred's questions as patiently as possible without running the dense young man over.

"Oh and…I met you dad this morning," Alfred announced, his voice dropping into a volume a bit quieter than the one he was just using. Arthur flinched slightly, knowing that his father had just drunk his brains out last night. He mistook him for his wife and Arthur's mother. That was a memory he wished to never remember ever again in his life time, but it was doomed to repeat itself sooner or later. The poor guy had hugged him and cried and it took all of Arthur's courage to tell his dad that, no, he was not Alice Kirkland, he was his son, Arthur Kirkland. He was the reason he broke his father's heart last night too…and did he seriously look like his mother? Her hair was rather long…but it was blond none the less.

"Err…I'm assuming you didn't get the best first impression…" Arthur nervously answered, his gaze falling to the runway Alfred was standing on.

"Sorry if that's a touchy subject for ya. Hah… but it wasn't the best first impression yeah," Alfred agreed awkwardly, not wanting to have Arthur get emotional on him again. Seemed like both of his parents created troublesome feelings for the young Brit. Poor guy…

The rev of a propeller caught their attention as Francis and his Air Camper drove by. Francis flashed them a toothy grin and a thumbs up before taking down the runway. Something in Alfred stung when he spotted Matthew in the passenger seat of Francis's monoplane. Arthur stood up and yelled a profanity at Francis before waiting a moment to take off himself, knowing that it was dangerous to do so when Francis had just taken off moments ago. He almost ran over Alfred in the process, for the American had to dash off of the runway if he valued his life.

Alfred watched the two planes fly through the air at a safe distance from each other. Though, he couldn't help but admit that he was horribly jealous of Matthew, for he got a basically free ride in Francis's plane. It was probably cold up there since both mono and biplane had open cockpits, but that was probably why the three were wearing aviators' caps. It looked like so much fun to be up there in the open sky. With an irritated huff, Alfred sat down in the grass.

When they landed and the three got out of their aircraft, Alfred stood up from his seat and approached Matthew. "Mattie, you're such a traitor," was the first thing he said, though there was still a hint of joking in Alfred's voice. Matthew grinned and playfully punched Alfred in the arm.

"That's because Francis is much nicer than Arthur," he answered, his grin never fading. Apparently everyone got a high after flight. Alfred huffed and crossed his arms, but was still humored none the less.

"That's why Artie's more fun," Alfred grinned and winked, the two started chuckling after that. Alfred and Matthew started talking about nothing important in particular when Francis approached Matthew with a friendly smile on his face, clapping a hand on the Canadian's shoulder.

"Ah, _mon amour,_" Matthew blushed at that. "Would you like to pilot my _avion_ into the hangar?" he offered, the expression of pure happiness morphing onto Alfred's cousin's face. Alfred immediately was jealous of Matthew again.

"A-are you sure?" Matthew asked, though his excitement outweighed his concern. Francis nodded his head as a 'yes'. "Ah, sure, yes! _Merci, merci!"_ Matthew nodded his head and Francis chuckled, telling him that Matthew would have to sit in his lap to do so. Alfred watched the two get into the Pientenpol Air Camper, Matthew sitting on Francis's lap with a blush. The French young man told his cousin what to do and the plane jerked forward, Francis chuckling and telling the other something Alfred didn't hear—likely instructions.

Other than that, with Francis's expert directions, Matthew piloted the plane into the hanger without a problem, looking as if he'd been driving one his whole life. Arthur glanced at Alfred from the cockpit as if saying 'don't get your hopes up' before driving his plane into the hangar as well. Alfred followed sulkily, approaching Matthew as the other jumped out of the Pientenpol with little difficulty.

"You're such a traitor," Alfred restated, this time the joking tone almost completely gone.

"Yeah, well, 'Boring ol' Mattie' did something interesting for once. I deserve to do things too Alfred, you're always taking the spotlight," Matthew grumbled almost bitterly before apologizing for his rude reply. Alfred brushed it off, saying that he deserved it.

"Ah, you three, I know a good Italian restaurant we can all have dinner at later, my treat," Francis grinned, pressing a hand lightly to his chest. Alfred heard Arthur snort and turned to look at the Brit just as the other's feet hit the ground.

"Your treat? Please, I know you too well to know you'd make us pay for it, I doubt you'll even loan a penny," Arthur remarked, though a faint grin was displayed on his lips. Alfred grinned himself. Boy, Artie was so much more fun after flying, it was a fact.

"Come on, at least I'm generous enough to offer _mon ami_," Francis joked, letting his hand fall to his side. Matthew noticed that Francis didn't call Arthur _mon amour_ and pointed it out to his American cousin, leaning closer to say so. Not knowing the difference, Alfred asked what that meant and Matthew remarked how _ami_ was friend and _amour_ was love. Alfred grinned and thanked Matthew for pointing it out.

"Now what are you two being so secretive about?" Francis asked as if he were questioning young children, his grin still present. Matthew smiled innocently and answered with a candy sweet 'nothing'. "So? _Angleterre's_ coming, you two going to come?"

"Yeah, we're coming," Alfred beamed, giving the French pilot a thumbs up. Nodding, the four left the airport and headed for their vehicles, driving off. They had agreed over texting a little later, to meet at the restaurant at eight that night, Francis giving them all the location of the restaurant.

XXX

The four entered, as promised, a nice Italian restaurant. It was small and warm in contrast to the bitter cold outside. They were surprised to find that the guy sitting at the cash register was Spanish though, greeting them happily with an enthusiastic _hola_. Alfred knew his fair share of Spanish. Arthur and Francis seemed to recognize the brunette too, all three greeting each other in a friendly way. The Spanish young man seated them each at two tables close to each other after talking with the two, Francis and Matthew at one, Alfred and Arthur at the other, upon Francis's insisting.

"You know that guy?" Alfred asked curiously after ordering his Sprite, slightly leaning forward in interest.

"Yes, in fact I do. Francis and Antonio knew each other back when I first moved here to America. The three of us never really got along, but eventually warmed up to each other," he opened his menu. "Tch, we were a troublesome trio," Arthur added nostalgically. Alfred smiled fondly at the expression the British pilot adopted, a small smile tugging at his own lips.

"Eh, what do you to want to order?" a moody voice announced its presence, making the two look up at a boy that was obviously Italian giving that his accent was Italian. He also looked very identical to that Feliciano boy in Alfred's acting group. His mood didn't match Feliciano's at all though. If it weren't for the peeved tone in the Italian's voice, he would've mistaken him for Feliciano.

"Whoa, you know Feliciano? You look a lot like him," Alfred asked before being elbowed harshly in the ribs by Arthur who scolded him and told him to refrain from asking rude questions. The Italian rolled his eyes as if the question itself was ridiculous, which it was in his point of view.

"Of course I know that son of a bitch, he's my dumb ass twin brother," he grunted, tapping the pen quickly on the notepad he held. "Now what do you want? If you don't want an—hey!" he was pulled aside by Antonio who quickly apologized in Spanish.

"Ah Lovino, he's a moody one," he chuckled almost nervously, smiling sympathetically as the Italian boy named Lovino began screeching profanities at him. "Anyways, I can take your order," Antonio's sympathetic smile stretched into a cheery one as he pulled the cap to a pen off. Smiling thankfully at the Spanish boy, they took their order. Nodding his head, Antonio turned around and kissed Lovino on the cheek, effectively silencing the other for a short moment before he started yelling at Antonio for performing PDA.

Alfred chuckled at the display and assumed that those two's relationship would be what his and Arthur's relationship would be like if they ever got in one. Don't get him wrong, he was still confused about the whole being gay thing, but it was becoming less of a concern the more time he spent with Arthur. He hoped that he'd get it all figured out before New Year's.

When their food arrived, they fell into thick solitude, the only sound being the distant sound of kitchen activity and Matthew and Francis chatting at the table next to theirs, Francis casting a glance over at Alfred and Arthur every now and then, slyly waiting for something _interesting _to happen. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case at the current moment.

Alfred would cast a glance over to Francis and Matthew every now and then too, though for a completely different reason. He wished that Arthur would let him ride in his plane and would at least talk to him like the other two were doing now. But that was most of the fun of the challenge now wasn't it? Glancing down at his half empty plate of food, Alfred figured that he'd have to start the conversation himself if he wanted one.

"So…why'd you run off yesterday?" Alfred asked, looking up at his dinner partner with mild interest. Not the best subject to start with, but whatever, he _was_ still wondering why Arthur had run off Friday. He had looked rather sick at lunch though, so that was probably the reason.

Arthur blushed lightly at the thought of asking for a hug yesterday during lunch in front of _a lot_ of people in that overly packed lunchroom. He didn't exactly have an excuse and didn't want to tell Alfred that he had started drinking; the boy would blame his father when it was clearly Francis's fault. Damn, Arthur even looked forward to the next time he smashed himself to get away from his troubles if not for only one night.

"Err…"

"Were you sick? You looked pretty sick anyways," Alfred remarked, a slightly concerned look crossing his facial features. Yeah, Arthur could go with that. Being hung over was almost basically the same thing as being sick with the cold or the flu. Almost.

"Yes I was sick, Francis managed to _miraculously_," Arthur put emphasis on the 'miraculously'. "Cure me of my sickness last night," Arthur rolled his eyes as he finished his sentence. That was probably one of the worst cover stories Arthur had come up with his whole life. Of course, Alfred believed him and took it the wrong way, frowning slightly with a strained 'oh'.

The two returned to eating their dinner, Alfred a little tense after Arthur's cover up story. He probably would've been even more irritated though, if he learned that Francis had managed to get Arthur smashed Thursday night. Probably more than irritated.

Francis and Matthew chuckled as they joked about Matthew's French teacher. Matthew really enjoyed Francis's company despite the other's reputation of flirting with almost anything with a pulse. Alfred had told Matthew to be careful around him, but he couldn't help it, Francis was like a magnet with 'Made in France' engraved on it. Don't forget that.

"Ah, how is your dinner _Matthieu_? Italian is good, but I assure you, French cuisine is far more superior," Francis grinned, leaning back in his seat, almost finished with his meal while Matthew daintily picked at his. Matthew smiled at Francis's obviously biased statement.

"Yes it is good, thank you for asking," Matthew answered, resuming with his dainty picking at his ravioli dish before nibbling on it. He wasn't a big eater like Alfred. Looking over his shoulder, Alfred was doing as expected whenever presented with food—shoveling it down his throat to the point of chocking himself. Arthur, was obviously disgusted at the other's eating habits and horrible manners, but ended up having to tolerate it.

Chuckling, Matthew returned his attention back to his dinner partner. "He's such a pig isn't he?" Matthew asked, an amused tone lacing his voice as he spoke. Francis grinned and wordlessly agreed with his Canadian partner. The two lapsed into a brief silence before Matthew spoke up once more. "So, how'd you and Arthur meet? Sorry if it's kind of a personal question, just curious, you don't have to answer if you don't want to," Matthew asked, his gaze averted to his empty glass of Pepsi, ice cubes being the only remaining things in the glass.

"Ah, no problem _mon ami_, Arthur was actually being bullied back in the…was it sixth grade…I think so. So me, being the _merveilleuse_ Frenchman I am, saved _mon ami_. Sent those bastards packing," Francis grinned rather proudly, making a sweeping motion as he claimed to have 'sent those bastards packing'. "Got along from then," he concluded. "Nothing much."

"It's a good thing you kept those kids from bullying him back then, but couldn't you have used a little less violence?" Matthew asked, smiling sheepishly. Francis chuckled, but didn't say anything else after that.

Alfred and Arthur were both almost finished with their dinners, Alfred still desperate to pull a conversation out of the British young man who sat across from him. Well, if something verbal wouldn't get something going, maybe he'd have to try something else.

"Hey…want me to finish what I started then?" Alfred offered sheepishly, grinning dumbly with a small blush dusting his cheeks, one hand itching at the back of his head. Arthur raised an eyebrow, not exactly catching on to what Alfred was talking about.

"What do you—Ah!" Arthur started, but was cut off when Alfred had stood up and swooped the other up into a hug. Arthur considered fighting it, but Alfred's warm embrace was something he secretly loved, so he simply blushed heavily and hesitantly leaned into Alfred, unconsciously nuzzling his face into Alfred's warm chest and with closing his eyes. Alfred was so warm, like a fireplace in the dead of winter when your heater was broken (even though it was guaranteed in Minnesota that your heater would be working).

Francis had stopped talking and was currently grinning, his gaze going off to his left (Matthew's right). Confused at what had caught the French man's attention, Matthew turned his attention to his right as well to spot Alfred and Arthur hugging. The best part was Arthur looked like he was actually enjoying it, Alfred, probably unconsciously, nuzzling the Brit's messy blond hair.

"Aren't they perfect for each other?" Francis grinned, muttering something about a girl with a name that started with the letter E. Matthew brushed that part off and nodded in agreement, he had to admit, they did look extremely cute together. Not that he'd admit that to Alfred and definitely not Arthur, aloud. Arthur would murder him and Alfred would probably deny it the best he could. "I am surprised though; Arthur doesn't let many people touch him. Not even his clothes," Francis remarked after a moment of watching the two, muttering something about having a phobia of being touched after that.

"Yeah, I think Alfred just sticks to the people he considers his friends," Matthew smiled at Francis, clasping his hands together. Francis smiled before looking as if he had just remembered something. He took a clean napkin that they hadn't used and jotted a few things down with a pen before handing it to Matthew. Looking down, Matthew assumed that they were all of Francis's cellular contacts.

"My number and other stuff just in case you want to contact me," Francis grinned, handing the flimsy tissue over to Matthew who pocketed it after folding it thrice times, thanking Francis as he did so. Francis's grin softened into a smile and he cupped Matthew's cheek from across the table, Matthew's face exploding into a heavy blush. "You are beautiful," and he leaned forward to peck Matthew on the lips. It was brief and tasted of the Italian food Francis had just eaten, but Matthew still loved it. His smile widened to look like a much toned down version of Alfred's megawatt one.

Alfred watched Matthew a tad jealously once more as he watched the two interact. He still held onto Arthur and contemplated if he should give Arthur a peck on the lips as well. That'd definitely screw both of their minds up, but Alfred couldn't resist. He had concluded that he was bisexual. He knew was kind of rushing into things, coming to conclusions without much thinking time, but Alfred really wanted to get something going with Arthur.

Nervously, yet swiftly, Alfred leaned back and tilted the Brit's head up by softly grasping his chin with his forefinger and his thumb. Arthur looked confused at Alfred's actions, but when they remained in that position, Alfred having an inner conflict on what to do, their position slowly registered in Arthur's brain. Alfred had one arm around Arthur's waist, one hand tilting his chin up while Arthur had unconsciously wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck in the midst of their embrace.

Face exploding into a full blown blush, Arthur pried himself away from Alfred and rushed out of the restaurant. Alfred watched blankly as Arthur got into his car, waited a brief moment before starting the engine and driving off. He slightly jumped when Francis placed a hand on his shoulder, a slightly sympathetic smile on his face.

"You should've moved faster."

XXXX

**Avion – plane**

**Hola – hello**

**Merveilleuse – wonderful**

**Fun fact: It's illegal to turn one's heater off in Minnesota during the winter :D**

** Lol, at first it was kind of hard to get this chapter going, but by the time I got them to the restaurant, things got a lot easier. Lol, yay for Spamano :D I'm not the biggest fan of them, but approve of them just enough to write them. Are ya proud of me? Lol, don't answer that please. Hm…really didn't get much feedback last chapter. So please review here, I really need to hear how you guys think this is going. So yeah. Peace out my friends. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

** My dog just died this morning. Rather abruptly at that. You can see a picture of him on my profile on DA. My head hurts a lot and it finally snowed yesterday. Enjoy.**

**XXXX**

When Arthur got to Alfred's home on Thanksgiving, he was greeted at the door by a Cuban teen probably a year younger than he was. The guy let him in and Arthur severely doubted that he was related to either Alfred or Matthew even if he were an in-law. When he entered, he recognized Toris, a boy that was in his math class and he also recognized Alfred's Japanese friend Kiku. The rest of their company, he didn't recognize. Turns out that this Thanksgiving dinner was more friend based than family, for only Matthew and Alfred's fathers were there. They were talking to each other in slightly hushed voices compared to the other teens' loud ones, both holding a bottle of liquor.

So here he was—sitting slightly awkwardly at a slightly large dinner table with about ten other people he barely knew save for Alfred and Matthew. Kiku appeared nice to talk with, but he didn't feel like striking up a conversation at the moment. So Arthur settled with eating as much as he could—which wasn't exactly much compared to other people's standards.

Alfred was ecstatic that Arthur had _actually_ come to his Thanksgiving dinner. He had originally assumed that the Brit would've skipped it, suddenly having something better to do, but apparently not, because there he was, sitting in the seat at the corner of the table, picking at his turkey. He wanted to take another shot at what he had attempted and failed at, at the Italian restaurant.

"Oh and Kiku, what unit are you on in history class anyway?" Alfred asked, halting his task of shoveling hazardous amounts of food down his throat and surviving. "I'm on the one hundred year war thing. Ha, ha, while my teacher was talking, all I could think of during class was Artie and French fries trying to kill each other, it's _so_ funny how sometimes, because when Artie gets angry at him, it's like…Whoa! Plus they act exactly like the relationship England and France are in ya know?" Alfred continued, stopping himself before he started to ramble.

"Ah, I am on the Italian wars," Kiku answered. Alfred hummed, nodding his head before resuming with his shoveling.

Arthur was about to get more carrots when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He sighed, knowing that it was rude to text when one is a guest at a dinner. But he was so bored, what else did he have to do? Nobody spoke with him and he was surprised that he was being left alone by Alfred. He had expected to have his ear talked off by the time they were ten minutes into dinner. So far, they were twelve minutes into dinner.

**[French Frog]**

A photo of Francis without his shirt on, grinning seductively at the cellular camera popped up.

**Ah, Angleterre, why not come over? I'm rather lonely and I'm sure you're bored over at Alfred's house. I've got tea, I'll even make it the way you like it. It'll be a good night ;)**

Arthur's cheeks dusted pink slightly at what the French young man was requesting from him. He looked at the occupants around the table, making sure nobody noticed him before replying.

**[Angleterre]**

**No thank you. I am most certainly not bored.**

**[French Frog]**

**Come on Angleterre :( You're no fun. Unless you're getting kindly with l'Am****é****rique? I can understand that you want to get back with that, but could you set him aside for a moment?**

Arthur's face burst into a dark shade of red and he had to bow his head so the others wouldn't see him and ask about his red cheeks. It took him quite some time to recollect his scattered thoughts (and unwanted mental images) before he finally replied.

**[Angleterre]**

**I am not GETTING KINKY with Alfred.**

**[French Frog]**

**Then why not come over? ;)**

**[Angleterre]**

**NO.**

He stuffed his phone into his pocket and shoved a large slice of bread into his mouth moodily. He felt his cellular announce a reply from the French bastard, but Arthur didn't even bother to read it. He didn't want to hear…err…see what Francis had to say back to him. Knowing that frog, it was probably another thing that would make his face turn beet red again and he didn't want to risk getting caught.

Swallowing the bread he had shoved into his mouth, Arthur tried to resume with his meal whilst looking as normal as possible. His cheeks were still a tad red, but that was all. He felt someone tap his shoulder and Arthur almost jumped out of his own skin. His face started turning a bit red at the sight of a slightly nervous Alfred who was sheepishly grinning down at him.

"Uh…can I talk to you in private?" Alfred asked.

Oh the things Francis would say if he heard that.

Cheeks reddening further, Arthur grunted and stood up, letting Alfred lead him into the living room. The two stood next to the couch, Arthur refusing to sit down and Alfred just too focused on what he was trying to say to notice that he was next to the piece of furniture. "Uh…are you fine? Need anything?" Alfred asked, his shy grin still stuck on his face. Arthur blinked once, not exactly knowing why Alfred would have to talk to him in private about this.

"Uh, I'm fine."

"Cool," Alfred's grin got a little more confident after that. "Uh, wanna hang out some more?" he asked, hope shining in his blue eyes. Arthur's blush disappeared and he frowned slightly, crossing his arms.

"Are you trying to get a plane ride out of me because you saw Francis give Matthew one? Because you sho—"

"No, no!" Alfred shook his head wildly, waving his hands almost frantically. "I-it's not about that, I already know that you won't give me one. I just really like hanging out with you and since we barely do it, I think we should find some time to be together and-and…" he looked down at Arthur's blushing face. He took a moment to run what he had just said through his head and his grin turned shy once more as he himself blushed slightly. "Uh…"

"You're a good cook," Arthur changed the subject. Alfred's expression lit up so much that it Arthur doubted it wasn't able to power the entire Earth. He was about to say something else when Alfred pulled Arthur into a hug, twirling him in circles and making Arthur dizzy, chanting 'thank you, thank you' over and over.

Alfred had made a majority of the dinner with the help of Matthew. He had not cooked in a while himself since Matthew made most of his dinners while he microwaved leftovers. He was nervous about how everyone would think about his cooking. Alfred ended up having to make the mashed potatoes three times over, panicking about them being 'too soft' or 'too hard' even though Matthew had told him many times how they were fine.

"P-please calm down Alfred, you're making me dizzy!" Arthur wailed, with his hands fisted into Alfred's shirt, not wanting to let go. Alfred stopped and let Arthur go, though the other fell back and he ended up having to catch him with a large grin of amusement.

"Sorry Artie," Alfred chuckled, before pulling him back into a gentler hug without thinking about it. "But seriously thanks," he added.

"What is with you and hugging?" Arthur questioned, leaning back from Alfred. The American pouted before grinning widely and pulling him back into another hug, Arthur protesting loudly.

"Because hugging you is fun! Besides, I know you love it," Alfred replied, pressing his cheek into Arthur's hair. Arthur turned red once more and was shocked that he was still conscious with how much blood that had rushed to his face within the span of less than half of an hour. Arthur pulled away from Alfred's embrace once more, intent on leaving when Alfred pulled him back. Despite being against the physical contact, Arthur leaned heavily into Alfred, who grinned widely at the unconscious action.

He loved hugging Arthur. If one would ask for his hobby, he'd say "hugging my bestest friend in the whole wide world of course!" and he hoped it would change from 'bestest friend in the whole wide world' to something more. Arthur was just so warm and tiny compared to himself. No, he wasn't extremely slim or super feminine; he had just enough muscle to be mildly muscular. He was still small and not as well built compared to Alfred, but the American was just fine with that. His hair was fun to nuzzle his face into as well. It was soft and messy. Arthur smelt of tea, very, very faintly of airplane fuel and a day just before it rained.

On Arthur's side, again, he simply loved being in Alfred's warm embrace. He was comfortable with someone larger hugging him rather than someone his size. Like Francis. The Frenchman wasn't as comfortable as Alfred and he smelt of roses, wine and strongly of the engine Francis constantly worked on in the hangar giving that he was Arthur's mechanic along with his own. Francis also had cold hands more often than warm. Alfred smelt of dust (from the auditorium whenever he went there to rehearse for school plays), steak and sweat. The sweat part was slightly repulsive, but it managed to balance the other two out and was very faint. Arthur was surprised he didn't smell like hamburgers.

Arthur had almost fallen asleep when Alfred separated the two. Arthur shivered and almost whined at the loss of Alfred's body heat, but refrained from doing so, settling with gazing up into those sky blue eyes. Alfred grinned down into Arthur sleepy gaze and had to keep himself from cooing at the British pilot. He was about to lean in and finish what he had started at the Italian restaurant when Matthew walked in, requesting Alfred's company, though smiling sweetly since he had just appeared in time to witness the last part of their hug.

Once he finished what Matthew had wanted him to do, Alfred whipped out his cellular; unable to resist the urge to text the one person he thought he'd never text. He was glad Matthew was nice enough to share his contacts when they had gotten home from that dinner Francis had invited them to.

**[Amerique]**

**is arty always this cudly?**

He placed his phone on the table and stuffed a large amount of mashed potatoes into his mouth when his phone began buzzing. He snatched it off of the edge of the table before it could fall off, reading it and jabbing in his reply as he swallowed his food.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Ah, have you just discovered that? Well, yes he is. Like a puppy :)**

**[Amerique]**

**do I hav 2 hous train him? :D**

Alfred began snickering at what he had texted, earning strange looks from the others sitting around the table. They returned to their dinner when they spotted the phone in his hands. Alfred sent his reply, still snickering at what he had typed.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Ha, ha! I genuinely did not know Americans could have such good humor! :) I congratulate you, I actually laughed out loud. But your grammar/spelling could improve. **

**[Amerique]**

**Arty was reprimanding me about that a wile ago :P Is this beter?**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**A bit. Didn't know you even knew what reprimanded meant. You even spelt it right 8D**

Alfred grinned triumphantly at the praise if one could call it that. He had used a word correctly and spelled it correctly! It was even one of those hard words Alfred tripped over all of the time—he just guessed and he was so happy that he had gotten it right. His thumbs tapped in his reply to 'Bonerfoy'. Though, the good grammar/spelling thing was too hard for him, so he decided to revert back to what he normally did.

**[Amerique]**

**Shut up, Im not that stupid :( and this good spel gramer thing is 2 hard im dun**

**[Francis]**

**Don't forget to give our dear Angleterre a goodbye kiss ;)**

Alfred grinned once more when he read that. He'd have to thank Francis for the idea, he had no idea how he would've pulled it off since Matthew had interrupted him when he was giving it a shot. Damn Mattie, not that he was angry at him, he was just disappointed that he wasn't able to get it done.

**[Amerique]**

**o awsum idea! thanks! :)**

Alfred stuffed his cellular back into his pocket, not bothering to read Francis's reply when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He grinned and returned to what one would call eating. Now that he had an idea on how to execute what he had started earlier, all Alfred had to do was get the courage to do so. It wasn't exactly something easy.

He turned when he felt someone tapping at his shoulder and smiled at the sight of his look-alike cousin.

"Is Arthur doing fine? He doesn't exactly know anybody here, so I'm just wondering," Matthew asked, clasping his hands together behind his back, smiling down at his American cousin. Alfred grinned and waved Matthew off, telling him that Arthur had told him that he was doing fine. With a nod, Matthew returned to his seat and meal, though he was almost done giving that he ate daintily and near to nothing at all. Alfred had worried over him not eating enough back when they were in middle school, but Matthew had managed to assure him that Alfred just ate a lot. Yes it was true and Matthew was quite the opposite when it came to amounts of food consumed.

Matthew's Cuban friend was first to leave, saying that he had to visit his mother who was in the hospital. Kiku left a bit after the Cuban teen did, having to get back to his sick father. Then a few others began leaving too and soon enough, Arthur, Toris and Matthew's father were the only guests left. Matthew and his father were getting ready to leave, Matthew having decided to not stay over at Alfred's that night.

Alfred's father and Matthew's father, the both of them being brothers, said their goodbyes, Matthew's father leaving and seating himself in his car, waiting for his son. Matthew grinned shyly at Alfred and wished him luck, Alfred not knowing why he did, but thanked his cousin anyway. He watched as Matthew and his dad pulled out of the drive way and left. Alfred hated being alone even though his father being home as well wasn't exactly considered total solitude. He just enjoyed other people's company, such as Matthew or Arthur. Preferably Arthurs.

"Well, it's about time I leave as well," Arthur announced, heading for the door and grabbing his jacket, swinging it on. "I will see you probably next week Alfred," he added, opening the door to leave. Alfred was talking with his dad when Arthur had said all of that, so he had to hastily excuse himself, bursting out of his house, yelling 'WAIT!' as he snatched Arthur's wrist and spun him around.

Arthur was shocked at the sudden outburst and he had to blink a few times to notice that Alfred was trying to say or do something. He was then pulled into another hug, he assumed that it was the fifth one that night. Remaining speechless, though not too surprised at the Americans actions; Arthur went as far as wrapping his own arms around Alfred's torso.

Gaining confidence with the reaction he managed to pull out of Arthur (and loving the feel of his arms around him), Alfred separated themselves slightly and was about to perform the task he had been mulling over the whole night. If only Toris had left earlier…

"Ah, Alfred, I'm sorry that I'm interrupting, but I have to talk to you," Toris announced, shyly waving Alfred over. Shoulders slumping visibly, Alfred glanced down at Arthur briefly before turning to talk with the other.

The pilot was left in the drive way, a little hazy from Alfred's hug before shaking the feeling off. With a tiny sigh, Arthur turned and opened the door to his car, getting into the driver's seat with a huff. He sat there for a brief moment before starting the engine and pulled out of the drive way before driving off, back to his apartment and likely, a heavily drunk father. Oh boy, he didn't want to deal with that.

Alfred sighed, staring at the almost vacant drive way, a defeated look on his face as he waved at Toris while the other pulled out and waved back before driving off himself. With a heavy sigh, Alfred's gaze fell to his feet, inspecting the one untied shoe he sported. His right sneaker just didn't want to stay tied didn't it? With another heavy sigh, Alfred bent down to tie it before straightening up, gazing up at the starry sky. Where the hell was all of the snow? Shouldn't it be snowing by now? November was basically over according to Alfred now that Thanksgiving was done.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder from behind and asked what was wrong. Alfred looked up at his father and smiled weakly.

"Nothing's wrong dad, just tired," he replied before reentering the house, heading straight up to his room and flopping down into his bed. He lay there for a moment, eyes closed before opening them and extracting his mobile from his pocket, reading the reply Francis had sent an hour ago and starting a new text to said French young man.

Francis was in his dorm room, his roommate, Ludwig, off with his family for Thanksgiving it was boring with nobody there and he considered going to Arthur's flat. But the thought of having to deal with Arthur's inebriated dad prevented him from doing so. Alfred probably hadn't read his reply and he had been left to boredom once more. Nobody seemed to read his replies tonight for Arthur had done the same to him earlier that night. That British pilot was lucky he had somewhere to go for the night. Francis's parents were both on separate business trips in Europe, his mother in Italy and his father in Denmark.

Sighing, Francis trudged over to the small refrigerator Ludwig had been nice enough to buy himself and lug into their tiny dorm room. Opening it, Francis scanned its contents, searching for something to eat on this fine, boring, lonely Thanksgiving. If Alfred was doing anything for Christmas and took his dear Artie away again, Francis would have to follow. Maybe even greet Matthew and give him a kiss.

Grinning at the idea, Francis took out a container of leftover lasagna, dumping its contents into a bowl and sticking it in the microwave. Tapping in the amount of time Francis needed to properly heat up the food, he glanced at the time displayed on the microwave before actually doing so, seeing that it was almost ten 'o' clock at night.

Looking out the window, Francis sighed. When it snowed, he'd have to keep Arthur away from the airport as much as possible, just because runways weren't meant for cars, didn't mean they got icy themselves. Arthur always risked that whenever winter rolled around. Minnesotan winters were Canadian winters and they were _merciless_.

He was about to text Arthur again out of boredom, about an hour after Alfred had neglected his last reply, but was prevented from doing so when his phone buzzed, announcing a new message. Curious, Francis checked it and grinned when he found out that it was Alfred, but frowned a bit at what it said.

**[Amerique]**

**i mised my chans…**

**XXXX**

** Poor Al, you're just too slow when it comes to this kind of stuff. I'm kinda disappointed with how short this chapter is. So yeah, I'm happy I got more feedback last chapter :) Please review again guys, love to hear what you have to think about it. Be truthful. Just don't be too harsh a keep mean things to yourself. Peace out my friends.**


	10. Chapter 10

** Hey there. I'm back :) Lol, I really don't have much to say except for my dog died Sunday, but that's it. Lol, I just saw this epic British Airways commercial and I was like 'AIR PLANE!' :D It made me super happy and I was wondering if it was the US Airway one and then was like, why would they use a British guy to narrate? But alas, it was British Airways. Arthur immediately popped into my head when I saw one of those small airplanes like the Boeing Stearman. It is officially my favorite commercial. Enjoy the tenth chapter :) Oh yeah, we're finally on the double digits.**

**XXXX**

When Alfred passed the window in the hallway in his house, he had to stop and back up a few steps to double check if he had seen it correctly. He stared out the window, not believing what he was seeing. This was awesome.

Alfred had been looking out the window for about a minute before bolting for the phone, jabbing in Matthew's number. He ended up having to put the number back in at a slower pace for he ended up calling someone else. It wasn't likely that Matthew was awake, giving that it was ten to six in the morning.

"MATTIE IT'S SNOWING!" was the only thing Alfred yelled into the phone when he was brought to Matthew's home voice mail. Slamming the phone back onto its receiver, Alfred searched hastily for his mobile, flipping it open and jabbing at its buttons. He opened the text function and began punching in a message to Arthur, wondering if the Brit got up this early in the morning as he did so.

**[American Idiot]**

**ARTY ITS SNOWNG!**

After sending the text, Alfred went straight for the front door and geared up to go outside. As he pulled his gloves on, Alfred opened the door to be met by the crisp, cold Minnesota winter air. He loved it. With a huge grin, Alfred bound over to the snow piling up in his front yard, packing together a small snowball before rolling it around, it gradually getting larger. There was already two feet of snow blanketing the neighborhood and it was coming down still. The snowplows had gotten to the snow probably half an hour ago, only to have three inches of snow covered up their work.

Alfred stopped and straightened his back out when he felt his cellular vibrating in his jeans pocket which was covered by thick snow pants. Alfred pulled off a soggy glove and dug his hand into his pocket, under the snow pants as well before extracting his phone and flipping it open. He grinned when he saw that it was Arthur.

**[Artie]**

**Yes, I can see that Alfred.**

**[American Idiot]**

**com oer art im makn a snwmn!**

Alfred began pushing the snowball with one hand, not really having to bend over giving that the snowball was now an _enormous _size. He could still easily push it though, giving that he was stronger than he originally appeared.

**[Artie]**

**I'm sorry Al. I cannot come over now.**

Alfred pouted, though he knew that Arthur couldn't see it. He then immediately brightened up at the nickname he had gotten out of Arthur. He wanted to dance in circles and cheer, but settled with excitedly typing his reply before holding his phone to his chest as if it were Arthur himself.

**[American Idiot]**

**Plz arty?and thksyoo fur caling mee al!**

**[Artie]**

**No ALFRED.**

Alfred smiled at the reply Arthur had sent, able to picture the Brit's red face. He stopped rolling the enormous snowball he had created and started on the second one, crawling around in the snow as it grew. He finished it before actually texting Arthur back about half an hour later.

**[American Idiot]**

**dont mk me cri arty :(**

**[Artie]**

**I'm positive that you're not bawling your eyes out at the moment Alfred.**

Alfred chuckled and hauled the large snowball up on top of the first one he had made, letting out a huge grunt as he did so. Happy with his work, Alfred stepped back to admire his work before starting the last snowball as he texted Arthur.

**[American Idiot]**

**plz com ovr arty! D: im lonely**

**[Arthur]**

**Later.**

He grinned widely at that. He was happy Arthur was coming over, now he could hang out with Arthur! He had asked Arthur again if they could hang out more often a few days ago, but the other had simply turned a light shade of red and ignored his question, changing the subject to something completely different. Alfred sometimes got irritated, but didn't pry if Arthur wasn't comfortable with it. He didn't know why he wasn't comfortable with the topic, but he wouldn't question Arthur—the Brit could get cranky when he was embarrassed. Unfortunately for Arthur, his embarrassed crankiness was cute. But Alfred still didn't pry.

**[American Idiot]**

**thnx arty! :D**

He pocketed his phone and returned to rolling the head of the snowman full steam ahead.

A couple of hours had passed and Alfred was working on his third snowman by the time Arthur's car slid, literally, into Alfred's drive way. Alfred stood up to greet the British pilot when the shaggy haired blond literally fell out of his car, face planting into the snow. It was unintentional, but Alfred still burst out laughing, bounding over to the pilot to help him to his feet.

Arthur was muttering angrily to himself and he pushed Alfred away from him. Pouting, Alfred pulled Arthur back down into the almost three foot blanket of snow. With a yelp, Arthur landed with half of his body on top of Alfred, said American laughing joyously as Arthur began screaming profanities at him.

"Come on Artie! Loosen up a bit!" Alfred grinned, wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck and pulling him into an enthusiastic hello hug. Arthur immediately pulled away, face red and stuttering horribly.

"Sh-shut up! I'm just fine, you should _tighten_ up a bit," Arthur huffed, his large eyebrows furrowing as he glared down at the young man lying in the snow below him. Alfred sat up as Arthur scooted off of him and stood up, brushing the snow off of his coat and jeans. "So I almost got into an accident _seven times_ for this?" he cocked an eyebrow, placing his hands on his hips.

"Sorry…" Alfred stood up as well, looking a bit hurt at Arthur's sour words.

"Ugh…no, it's fine Alfred, I'm just a bit stressed."

"Yeah, heard the ice is pretty bad," Alfred commented.

"It's not only the ice on the road that's stressing me out Alfred," Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead, his fingers freezing cold at the touch, not wanting to think of his problems at the moment.

"Is it Bonerfoy?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side. Arthur just stared at Alfred for a long moment, his brain processing what Alfred had just said. He then burst out laughing. Alfred grinned, though he didn't exactly know what was so funny and was worried for Arthur's mental state with how hysterical he was getting. "What's so funny?"

"Francis was right, you do have a good sense of humor," Arthur chuckled, smiling up at Alfred. Arthur's smile was beautiful and Alfred made sure that he'd memorize it and cherish it giving that this was the first time Arthur had given him this smile.

"Oh! Hey, do you like my snowmen?" Alfred asked, motioning over to the three _huge_ snowmen residing in his front yard. Arthur, who had calmed down significantly, glanced over at the three creations. "They're like a family!"

"They rather…large…" was all Arthur could say. Seriously, they were huge. He was surprised that Alfred was able to push around the enormous snowballs that were the bases to the snowmen. They were impossibly huge.

"I was making them when we were texting!" Alfred grinned childishly, a hint of triumph in it as he bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. Arthur hummed and Alfred eventually invited the Brit inside.

As the two entered the warmth of Alfred's home, Alfred asked if Arthur wanted anything. The American knew well enough that the Brit would ask for tea, but asked none the less and alas, his prediction was accurate. Unfortunately, he didn't have any tea.

"Uh…I don't exactly have tea…hey! How 'bout some hot chocolate? I can make that and it's _way_ better than tea," Alfred grinned, already making his way to prepare two mugs of hot chocolate for the both of them. Arthur huffed, but let Alfred do so anyways wordlessly. He wasn't risking getting into a car accident just to get some tea.

"Alfred, I believe that you should improve your spelling and grammar.—It's atrocious and makes me sick just looking at how much you've butchered the English language. Now, I seriously am surprised that you're even passing your English class, haven't you see—wha-what are you doing Alfred?" Arthur had begun chewing Alfred out about his spelling and grammar, but had become flustered when he felt Alfred hug him from behind. "I-I'm serious…wha-at is with you and hugging?"

Alfred pressed his cheek into Arthur's hair, a huge grin stretching his lips. "I told you, I like hugging you."

"A-and you've been really affectionate these last days," Arthur added as if he were attempting to prove a point. His face going red when he felt one of Alfred's hands lightly massage his side unconsciously. It felt good, but Alfred was being very affectionate lately and it was slightly bothering Arthur. "Alfred! Please, you're being a little _too_ nice!"

Alfred didn't say anything, intending to spin Arthur around so they were facing when someone knocked on the front door. A bit disappointed, Alfred let Arthur go and trudged over to the front door, opening it to the sight of Matthew.

"Why are you here?" Alfred grunted irritably. Matthew cocked an eyebrow at Alfred's moodiness and shifted his weight onto one leg, placing a hand on his hip. Alfred sighed and let Matthew in anyways.

"Why did you make my father almost go deaf over snow?" Matthew questioned back as he untied his boots after hanging up his winter coat. Alfred took a moment to realize what Matthew was talking about before remembering that he had called Matthew early in the morning. He grinned sheepishly and itched at the back of his head a tad nervously at the look Matthew was giving him.

"Hey Matt…you know me, I get excited ya know?" Alfred chuckled nervously and Matthew sighed. "Oh, hey, what unit are you on in history class?" Alfred asked, changing the subject. Matthew didn't exactly know why Alfred wanted to know what he was covering in history class.

"The Italian wars with Kiku, why?"

"Just curious, ey Artie, what are you on?" Alfred turned his attention to the pilot that was still a bit red in the face from the physical contact that had been shared between the two not too long ago.

"The French Revolution," Arthur answered, scrubbing at his cheek with the palm of his hand and the tips of his fingers, trying to force the blush away. "Seriously Alfred, why are you asking about this?"

"I told you, I'm just curious. I'm just that kind of guy," Alfred grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Alfred headed into the kitchen, pouring the hot chocolate powder into the hot water in two mugs before offering some to Matthew who politely declined.

"Say Alfred, what are we doing for Christmas and New Year's? It's already December and we need to make plans," Matthew questioned as the three entered the large living room, huddling around the fireplace that had been started up before Alfred went outside. "Sorry if I sound kinda like an organized freak to you, but I need to know so I can make invitations and the such," Matthew continued.

"Oh, Christmas will just be family stuff, so no need to make any invitations for that. I'm going to throw a _huge_ party for New Year's though, so you'll have to make lots of 'em!" Alfred grinned. "I'm _so_ excited for both too! Hey Artie, wanna come to the New Year's party? Please? It'll be amazing, promise!" Arthur sighed and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. His dad would obviously be off drinking again for both celebrations and he didn't exactly have anywhere to go. What would he do without Alfred?

With a huge sigh, Arthur looked back down at Alfred. "I guess I could…" and he was swept into a bear hug. "Self-control Alfred! Have you ever heard of it?" Arthur wailed as he was shaken back and forth in childish excitement displayed by yours truly.

"Thank you Artie!" Alfred sang. "Oh! And would you like to come see the school play? We're performing next week! Please Artie? Please tell me you'll come! I promise I'll do my best during it! It'll be fun too!" Alfred was basically on his knees, hands clasped together as if he were praying as he begged at Arthur's feet. Arthur was truly embarrassed at Alfred's actions and sent an almost helpless look at Matthew, requesting assistance.

"Ugh, what play is it?" he asked when Matthew refused to help him.

"Footloose! It's about a guy that moves into a town that has outlawed music and unsupervised dancing and he like, saves them from that law!" Alfred grinned before jabbing a thumb into his chest. "And I'm that guy of course!" and Arthur had to roll his eyes at that.

"I'll see if my schedule allows it," Arthur nodded his head before sipping the hot chocolate in his hands. Truth be told, it was good, but tea beat it hands down.

"Oh! Wanna go ice skating? The lakes aren't frozen yet of course, so I thought that going ice skating would be fun!"

"Your thought pattern is very spontaneous Alfred," Arthur sighed. "And I am not going ice skating thank you very much," he made sure to add, watching that chipper look slightly fade from Alfred's face before coming back full force.

"Nonsense!"

So Arthur soon found himself at an ice rink, his ankles hurting from the awkward bending they'd have to go through whenever Arthur lost his balance. He wasn't one to ice skate like Matthew, who was obviously showing off, skating at high speeds and performing flashy maneuvers. Alfred was pretty good at ice skating, leaving Arthur to be the beginner.

He'd never ice skated before, having never bothered to come to an ice rink before and since it rarely got cold enough for the lakes to freeze over enough to safely walk on, Arthur never had a chance back in England either when he was young.

Arthur grunted when one of his ankles bent in a funny direction, making him loose his balance. "Alfred! I hate this, my ankles hurt!" he almost whined, though denied that it was even close to a whine. It was a complaint. "Alfred!"

Alfred laughed as he caught Arthur when one of his legs slid in the wrong direction, Arthur now being pretty damn close to doing the splits. The pilot was clinging to Alfred's jacket sleeve like his life depended on it.

"C'mon Artie, you'll do fine!" Alfred grinned, helping Arthur straighten out before pushing him out in front of him, making Arthur slide for a brief moment before one foot turned inward on itself, making the other topple to the ground just as Matthew expertly skated by.

"Show off!" Alfred heard Arthur bark at Matthew who stuck his tongue out at them. He was then helped up by Alfred who was laughing at Arthur, the Brit now very humiliated with his situation. He was falling over, not improving and Alfred, another guy, was helping him. If you thought about it, people might mistake them for a couple. "I can do this on my own," Arthur bit, shoving Alfred away from himself and began skating on his own, though his legs were awkwardly bent.

"Daaw Artie, you're such a meanie, but whatever you say, good luck," and the American was off. Arthur huffed and silently fumed to himself, skating on his own in a rather amateur way.

He was about to quit when another guy, around his age, skated up to him.

"'Ello, you don't exactly look like you're 'aving the best of times," the boy pointed out. He had shaggy blond hair much like Arthur's, though it was longer and a shade paler. He also had a thick Australian accent, Arthur noted. "What're ya doin' here?"

"Forced here by a bloke," Arthur grunted. The Australian boy laughed, helping Arthur straighten himself up when one of his feet went off in the wrong direction.

"Yer British! Didn' know yer accents could sound so cool!" the boy chuckled. "Name's Marley by the way," he finally introduced himself.

"Arthur," if Marley didn't give a last name, Arthur wouldn't give a last name. "Well, the Australian accent is sort of similar to the British one is it not?" Arthur questioned. "Might have to ask Alfred or Matthew to compare," he added more to himself than to Marley. The Australian grinned and said that it was a good idea.

The two of them were talking to each other happily the next half hour. Apparently Marley had moved here because his father had gotten a job in America back when Marley was seven. It was a wonder how he still had his Australian accent. Arthur told Marley that he had moved to America when he was about twelve years old. He wasn't exactly comfortable with talking about his past with people he barely knew, so that was all he had given away.

Marley was an open book though when it came to his personal life. He reminded Arthur of Alfred, for the other would speak his mind most of the time, sometimes the most random of things leaving his mouth.

Arthur was about to reply to something Marley had said before someone sped by, swooping Arthur into their arms. "Hi Artie!" oh, it was Alfred. Arthur found himself being twirled in fast circles giving that they were on ice.

"Alfred, self-control! Gods!" Arthur wailed as he was being spun in circles, trying to wiggle out of Alfred's grasp, but then again, the momentum might send him flying. Alfred finally stopped, setting Arthur down who once again, was dizzy and ended up having to be caught by Alfred who didn't let him go that time.

"Eh, who's this?" Marley grinned widely, curiosity shining in his eyes and seeming undisturbed by the public display of affection Alfred was so fond of.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" Alfred jabbed a thumb into his chest before hugging Arthur tighter. "And Artie's mine!" he added, acting like a child in Arthur's eyes. But what he had said still didn't fail to make his face go red.

"Alfred, you dolt, I am _not_ a possession!" Arthur growled, trying to wiggle out of Alfred's arms, but to no avail. He was just too strong. Marley on the other hand, simply chuckled and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"Ah, no prob guys," he turned and seemed like he was about to skate off when he turned to look over his shoulder with a large grin plastered to his face. "You two look perfect together by the way."

XXXX

**Hm…not exactly content with how long this chapter is. I'm trying to achieve four thousand words per chapter, but am failing epically at doing so. It kinda makes me sad. Oh, and prepare for some epic shit to go down next chapter :D Please review, I really love to hear what you guys think. Peace out my friends :)**


	11. Chapter 11

** Hm…I've got nothing to say :) Enjoy.**

**XXXX**

Alfred sat at his desk, fighting sleep as he paid as much attention as he could to his math teacher. Normally he loved math and was deemed a geek for doing so, but today, for some reason, was just horrible. He was slightly jumpy, expecting something to happen at any time. He couldn't focus in any of his classes either and had missed four hours of sleep last night. So it all summed up to be torture. Matthew had asked him what was worrying him and Alfred answered his cousin the best he could explain it.

He had almost fallen completely asleep when the bell rang, announcing the end of class. Relieved, Alfred stood, stretched and yawned before slinging his string backpack over his shoulder, just about ready to bolt from the place. As he left the room and turned the corner, heading for his locker to grab a few text books, Alfred greeted Matthew who was walking in the opposite direction. When he got his books and closed his locker, double checking if it was properly locked, Alfred turned to walk off to his history class when he heard about three people yelling at someone before twelve gunshots went off.

Frightened stiff, Alfred stood in place as a few students rushed past him, some going in the direction of the ruckus, other away. He snapped out of his when someone bumped into him, wailing at him to get out of the way. Dropping his text books, Alfred ran in the direction of the gunshots, rounding a corner to be met with the strong stench to blood. The seven police that patrolled the school halls were currently wrestling down a boy in a black hooded sweatshirt, a rather impressive gun gripped tightly in his hand. It was empty, Alfred noted, when he heard the kid pulling the trigger only to be met by the sound of an empty chamber.

Shifting his attention, Alfred cringed at the sight of how much blood that was spattered all over the walls and floor. There was obviously more on the floor and he noted that seven people had gotten shot. He saw that one of them was his English teacher, the four others he didn't recognize, but his heart dropped into his stomach at the other two before coming back up into his throat. There lay Matthew face down, probably inhaling his own blood and Arthur, on his side in the middle of the hall, eyes wide open, but Alfred could tell that he was unconscious.

Alfred was about to rush over to his two best friends' sides, but was held back by teachers that had arrived at the scene. He knew they were screaming at him to leave, but he fought against their hold and tugged in the direction of his two friends.

"Let me go! They're my best friends! Let me _go_!" Alfred turned and swung his arm in an attempt to get them to let go. They continued to pull him away though and it wasn't long when several stretchers arrived, ready to carry those shot off to the hospital. Alfred turned around and left the scene, rounding corners and slipping once, knocking his head against the floor before pushing himself back up and continuing his mad dash to his vehicle.

Jumping into his car and jamming the keys into the ignition, Alfred drove off, the tires screeching on the pavement below. As he drove, almost getting into a car accident and somehow avoiding police, he managed to get to the hospital a second after the ambulance trucks, two in front of him and the rest behind.

Parking his truck, Alfred jumped out and raced into the hospital alongside Arthur's stretcher, asking those wheeling it if he was okay. They simply told him to go away so they could do their job, but Alfred wouldn't and couldn't bring himself to do so. He was so relieved to see that Arthur was alive though, when the shaggy haired blond tried to sit up, slightly delusional.

"Whoa, whoa! Stay down bud, stay down!" one of the medics barked, a hint of irritation in his voice as he pressed a hand carefully to Arthur's chest, pushing him onto his back. "And you, go away! We have to treat him," he snapped at Alfred. Alfred finally obeyed and stopped right on the spot, watching the stretcher disappear behind the double doors. He turned to look around his shoulder when he heard another stretcher approaching from behind.

Cold fear crept into him at the sight of Matthew who had an oxygen mask unlike Arthur, the medics seeming more frantic. One yelled at him to get out of the way and Alfred only had a split second to jump out of the way as they ran past him. He stood in the middle of the hallway, eyes wide as he stared at the double doors that had ceased to swing back and forth from being thrown open so crudely.

Numbly, Alfred sauntered back into the waiting room, hung his head in between his knees and cried silently. He didn't want to lose Matthew, Arthur was slightly in the safe zone, but Matthew didn't look so great. Alfred swore that he didn't see his cousin's chest moving in an indication of taking breaths. He clutched his head in his hands and squeezed the sides of his head with his knees, tugging lightly at his hair.

"Alfred?" he heard a voice and recognized it. Alfred didn't know how much time he had spent sobbing to himself and raised his head from in between his knees, rubbing the tears away vigorously as he did so. Kiku stood right in front of Alfred, worry shining brightly in his dark brown eyes. "Are you okay Alfred? I heard the gunshots and saw you running to your car," he continued, seating himself next to his American friend.

With a shaky sigh, Alfred sat up properly, his back cracking slightly from being bent in an awkward position for so long. "I-I'm…not fine. But I'm not terrible…just worried. Arthur's okay…well I think. But Matthew didn't look like he was breathing…what do I do if Mattie dies Kiku?" Alfred fought the tears of sorrow that threatened to fall at the thought of losing his cousin. He couldn't stand the thought.

"Don't worry about it unless it actually happens Alfred. Matthew might be alive and well," Kiku reassured, gently placing a hand on his friends shoulder. Alfred remained silent, having nothing else to say to his Japanese friend. "Alfred, I'm sure they're fine," Kiku tried again, squeezing Alfred's shoulder lightly as a gesture of reassurance.

"What if they're not?"

"What did I tell you about not worrying about it until it actually happens?" Kiku scolded, his eyebrows furrowing very slightly, just enough to be visible. Alfred was about to retort to Kiku's scolding, but Kiku silenced him by placing a finger on his lips. "Don't worry Alfred," was all Kiku said and stood to leave, walking gracefully away, his movement as smooth as a slow moving stream. Kiku stopped briefly as if he remembered something and turned to look over his shoulder. "Oh, and Alfred, school's been cancelled for the rest of the week," Alfred nodded his head and noted that it was Thursday.

Kiku had been gone for a few hours and Alfred was starting to worry again. If it took this long for those two to be in 'critical condition', they must be severely injured now wouldn't they? Kiku was wrong. The stress began eating away at him once more and Alfred began the panic mildly. A ton of questions zipped through his mind, the negative outweighing the positive massively. Eight hours had passed and it was nine at night, Alfred just about to go crazy when a doctor approached him. Alfred recognized him as one that was wheeling Arthur in when they had arrived.

"Still here?" he questioned, a sympathetic smile stretching his lips. Alfred simply stared at the guy, waiting for him to announce that Arthur had died. "Well, I assume that you've been wanting to know for a while now," he started and Alfred braced himself. "Arthur's alive and well."

…Huh…?

After recovering from the news, Alfred jumped up from his seat, almost frantically. "Can I see him?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I-I mean, may I see him?" Alfred corrected himself, remembering how Arthur would scold him for that mistake.

"He's asleep maybe—"

"No!" he stopped himself before he continued to yell. "Sorry…no…I don't care if he's awake or asleep," Alfred shook his head desperately. The doctor appeared reluctant, but nodded his head slowly and led Alfred to the hospital room that held Arthur. The room was white, the bed was white, good thing there was enough silver metal to balance out the white along with that window that let in the lights of the city outside. The curtains were an ugly yellow though…

He approached Arthur, who was out cold, and sat down at the side of the bed after pulling a navy blue plastic chair up to it. Looking over at where the doctor was standing, Alfred saw that he had disappeared, probably to give Alfred some privacy. He smiled when he looked at Arthur's sleeping face, his eyebrows were still slightly furrowed and a light frown tugged at the corners of his lips. The guy just couldn't smile a lot now couldn't he?

Hesitantly, Alfred took hold of Arthur's hand and leaned down to press his cheek against it. It was cold, but he could still hear Arthur's pulse. Alfred soon got uncomfortable from the metal bar separating his chest from the bed and lifted his head, leaning back in his seat, though his hand still lightly entwined with Arthur's. He noted how Arthur's right leg was tightly wrapped with gauze, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. Alfred wondered where Arthur had been shot other than his leg and mentally told himself to ask Arthur that when he woke up. Either that or ask the doctor.

The first place Alfred was off to early that Friday morning was to the hospital, it being about nine in the morning. He had gone home when the doctor had kicked him out of Arthur's room and he had asked about Matthew's condition. His cousin was still in the danger and that had kept Alfred from getting proper sleep, him waking up in anticipation every half hour or so. It was stressful.

He had texted Francis that Arthur and Matthew had been hospitalized about midnight, the fifth time he woke up. Alfred knew that he didn't exactly like Francis, but the guy deserved to know his two friends, if Alfred dare call Matthew one of Francis's friends, had been shot at school. The event had been televised last night on then news channel and it turns out the kid with the gun was struggling with severe anger issues paired with mild depression. That wasn't a pretty combination and Alfred knew that. The kid had shot seven people with a marksman's eye and managed to kill one and that could've been Arthur or Matthew.

When he arrived, he was happy to hear that he was Arthur's first visitor of the day, having beaten Francis to the punch. He was even happier to see that his friend was awake, staring dully up at the ceiling with a bored expression on his face.

"Artie!" Alfred grinned, rushing over to the bed and pulling the other into the best hug he could muster with being separated by the metal bar and the differing positions they were in.

"Ow! Damn it you git, stitches!" Arthur yelped, pushing Alfred away from him. Alfred immediately jumped away, shocked at the revelation that Arthur had been through surgery either overnight or while Alfred was worrying in the waiting room. Likely the later.

"Oh um…sorry about that," Alfred apologized, earning a glare from Arthur who dropped it immediately when he noticed that Alfred was genuinely sorry. Not even his sheepish grin was stretching at his lips. He had bags under his eyes and a slight frown tucking the corners of his mouth downwards, loads of worry shining in his blue eyes. "Where…where do you have them? Just so I know for future reference…" Alfred then asked.

Arthur lifted the pale green hospital shirt he was put in, an angry scar running across the right side of his torso. Alfred flinched and apologized more profusely, going as far as bowing down like Kiku did when he apologized thoroughly, which he did often. He had picked up on it at some point when he was in eighth grade—Alfred wasn't sure exactly when, but knew it was around there.

Arthur frowned when Alfred straightened back out, wiping away a few tears. "Why're you crying?"

"I was worried okay?" Alfred borderline yelled before going off to apologize for that too. Arthur's frown only increased, making Alfred worry even more about his current situation, wondering if Arthur actually wanted to see him or not. "Should…should I leave?" he asked, Arthur noting that Alfred sounded heartbroken when he asked that.

"N-no…you're fine," Arthur shook his head, letting the shirt drop back into place.

"Are you sure? You don't seem like you want to see me at all…"Alfred's shoulders visibly slumped and his gaze fell to the lightly patterned tiles on the floor. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and refused to frown any further.

"Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn't want to see you?" Arthur questioned, resisting the urge to cross his arms, knowing that he'd hurt himself if he did so, giving that the scar was in the perfect spot. "What would you do if I told you that I wanted you to stay?" he continued, blushing at the words that had left his mouth, but refused to break his gaze with Alfred's averted eyes. He was slightly relieved when he saw a small smile form on Alfred's lips. Alfred looked up, his smile continuing to grow before he couldn't resist and hugged Arthur again, though as gently as possible, avoiding the stitches as much as possible.

The hug still agitated the scar, but Arthur buried his face into the crook of Alfred's neck, unable to hug him back because it'd only cause pain. Alfred, although a very large bloke, was very gentle when he wanted to be—especially with Arthur. Arthur felt that he didn't get enough when Alfred finally separated from him, but he didn't voice it.

"What'd you need surgery for…err…you don't have to answer if it's kind of uncomfortable for you," Alfred asked, eyeing the spot on the pastel green shirt where the scar lay under.

"Liver, they had to get the bullet out—it was the only way," Arthur answered, looking down at the spot on the shirt Alfred was looking at. The stitches itched too. "Bullet drilled into the bone in my leg too, they say I'll be in crutches for a bit," Arthur continued, nodding at the bandages wrapped around his lower leg. He had been shot near the ankle and had gotten lucky. "So…" he paused, glancing solemnly down at his lap. "How's…how's Matthew? Hah…he's the reason I got shot twice, the guy got my leg first and then shot Matthew. Matthew went down and I jumped in the way before he could shoot him again…"

"Thanks for saving Mattie then," Alfred didn't smile though when he thanked Arthur before shaking his head. "I'm not sure about him," he took a shaky breath. "Last night I thought he was dead 'cause I didn't see him breathing on the way into this place, but then again, we were running like crazy, so it could've been my imagination," Alfred rubbed at the back of his neck, fingering the tag of his shirt before bringing his hands to his lap, his bangs hiding his eyes as a lone tear slipped out.

A brief silence nestled itself in between the two before Arthur finally spoke up. "Then go see him," were his words. Alfred looked up at Arthur, shocked. "I'm fine, now it's time to see if Matthew's fine as well," Arthur continued. Alfred was glued to the seat for a long moment, but eventually stood.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure Alfred, now go before I get the doctors to kick you out," Arthur stared into Alfred's eyes sternly, making sure his voice was demanding. Alfred's smile was small and thankful and he wordlessly left, his hands jammed into his pockets.

He approached the lady at the desk and asked for Matthew William's condition. He was immediately ecstatic when he learned that his cousin was alive and well and Alfred was allowed to visit him. As he was led to Matthew's room, Alfred's smile failed to disappear.

"Mattie!" he chimed when he saw Matthew sitting up in the hospital bed, the room almost identical to Arthur's except for the curtains, which were a dull purple. Very dull.

Matthew looked up from his hands in his lap and a smile was immediately forming. Alfred pulled a chair up to Matthew's bedside, but was too excited to actually sit in it. He refrained from hugging Matthew though.

"I was expecting a hug, but am thankful you kept yourself from doing so," Matthew smiled up at Alfred.

"Yeah, Artie had to deal with that though," Alfred grinned. Matthew's smile fell though, the second he heard that Arthur also had gone through surgery or something.

"What happened? I thought he was only shot in the leg."

Alfred bit his bottom lip. "Well…you know that you were shot and went out cold…Arthur told me that the guy was going to shoot you again, so he jumped in the way…got shot in the liver," Alfred pointed his index finger at where his liver rested. Matthew was silent after that, Alfred hoping that he wasn't going to say what he was thinking.

"He didn't need to do that…" that's what Alfred was thinking.

"No Mattie! Don't say that! You could've died and look, he did it and you're both alive, if he didn't you could…you co-could be dead!" Alfred kept himself from shaking the other from the shoulders, knowing that it'd hurt his cousin. "Wh-where'd you get hit by the way? You don't ha—"

"Lung. Left one to be exact," Matthew answered, glancing down at his chest. "They said I had stopped breathing for a while," Matthew continued. So it hadn't been Alfred's imagination when he saw that Matthew's chest wasn't moving. "I think they had to drain the blood out of my lungs somehow—not sure how and then did some good ol' surgery."

"Sorry I wasn't there."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember? I waved at you in the hallway before it all happened," Alfred brought up. "I should've been there."

"No," Alfred looked up and at Matthew, a little shocked at the two letter word that had left Mathew's mouth. "No Alfred, I'm not sure what would've happened to you, but I'm glad you weren't there. You could've died…"

"One person died," Alfred announced, this time, it was Matthew's turn to look shocked. "One Matthew…that easily could've been you or Arthur and I was so worried when I heard that last night…I almost came back…man…if I lost one of you I don't know what I'd do…" Alfred wiped at the tears that threatened to fall only to have new ones come back. "Hah…I'd probably go insane…but if I lost both of you—"

"Enough Alfred. Arthur and I are alive and healthy—almost perfectly fine save for a few stitches and I assume Arthur's going to be in crutches, but we're fine. No need to think about that," Matthew's voice was stern. Alfred smiled at that. He remembered when Matthew was younger and was so shy and quiet, constantly overshadowed by Alfred's personality that earned him attention along with his loud voice.

"You sound a lot like Kiku," Alfred made an attempt at laughing, but it came out weak as he continued to wipe at the tears that had yet to fall.

XXX

Arthur had been discharged on Sunday and school was going to resume on Monday of course. That weekend was filled with going to the hospital to visit Arthur and Matthew. Matthew would be discharged a week after Arthur, the doctors wanting to make sure Matthew's lung would support itself after the surgery performed on Saturday night. Arthur's leg wasn't as bad as they had made if sound and he was expected to be in crutches for around two months, if lucky, maybe even just over one month.

Alfred walked beside Arthur who was adapting to using the crutches he had been loaned. Alfred had learned that it wasn't your armpits where you stuck the crutches, but into your ribs. Arthur was lucky his scar was out of the way of the placement of the crutches or else he'd wind up in a wheelchair.

Francis had visited Arthur three times and Matthew four, going on five, for the Frenchman was currently heading over to the hospital. Alfred and Arthur were currently walking down the sidewalk to downtown Minneapolis, not having much to do. Alfred had offered to go to the Mall of America three times, Arthur turning it down, knowing that Alfred wanted to go just to go on the rides where Nickelodeon Universe was held inside of the large mall.

As they went along their way, going nowhere in specific, Arthur would have a severe leg pain every now and then. The first time Alfred had freaked out and almost called 911 if it weren't for Arthur knocking the phone out of his hands, yelling at him for worrying too much. They then continued on their way and the ache came back two hours later. Alfred freaked again, but not as bad as the first time and as time went on, along with three other incidents, Alfred learned that Arthur had decided to tough the leg aches out.

That night, Alfred had offered to invite Arthur over for the night. Arthur's father was off getting drunk again over the hospital bill, wasting the money he should be handing over to the hospital. Alfred had offered to pay for it, but Arthur declined his offer, telling him that his father needed to pay for it himself. Arthur though, accepted the invitation to Alfred's place.

"Hey uh…what about your plane? Do planes have like a gas pedal or something?" Alfred asked, slightly worried about the possibility of Arthur being unable to fly. Francis had told him that Arthur got stressed when he wasn't able to fly and he didn't want to see him stressed.

"No they don't have gas pedals Alfred," Arthur chuckled, taking a sip of the hot chocolate Alfred had made for him. The snow was coming down again and it was getting pretty deep. Alfred hoped that it'd be a snow day for school tomorrow—he wanted to spend more time with Arthur now more than ever giving that the other had just been shot twice and could've lost his life. "It's called a lever," Arthur continued and Alfred knocked a fist against his cranium as if he were knocking on a door, saying 'durr' as he did so, implying that he was stupid.

"Thank you for your advice oh wise one," Alfred grinned, happiness radiating off of him and onto Arthur who chuckled lightly at what Alfred had just said.

"You are very welcome young grasshopper," Arthur grinned and Alfred couldn't help but pull Arthur into a careful hug, making sure to avoid the stitches in Arthur's torso. Arthur leaned heavily into Alfred's embrace, gazing in content into the fire flickering in front of them in the fireplace.

Alfred immediately walked over to the table he and Arthur, sometimes Matthew, would sit at during lunch. He smiled and greeted Arthur enthusiastically before heavily seating himself into the seat across from Arthur, noticing the crutches propped up against the table to Arthur's right. Alfred went right into talking about the next video game he and Kiku were going to play together on Wednesday, his speech winding down to a halt when he noticed how uncomfortable Arthur seemed.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"Promise you won't laugh?" Arthur scowled, poking at meal with the plastic fork the school offered.

"Why would I laugh?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, looking as serious as he could to get Arthur to tell him what the problem was. Arthur sighed and slumped in his seat slightly before straightening back up and looking directly in Alfred's eyes.

"I'm being ridiculously paranoid about another bastard bringing a gun to school and I know it's not likely, that's why I think it's ridiculous. Now—"

"I'll walk you to your sixth period," Alfred offered. When Arthur didn't hear the joke in Alfred's voice, he looked up to see that Alfred looked worried and even a little hopeful. "I-I mean…I won't if you don't want me too but…if not, I could until you feel more secure here again," Alfred continued, his cheeks pinking slightly as he said that. Arthur just stared at Alfred for a long moment, unmoving before a soft smile appeared and he looked down at his untouched food.

"Yeah…that'd be nice."

So Alfred walked Arthur to his sixth period, the two talking about the hospital bill Arthur's father had yet to pay. Quite a few others, mostly girls, would send them strangely amused looks, Alfred overhearing one say 'I knew they'd get together by the end of the year, hand over the money'. He pondered over whether he should ask Arthur what they meant by that, but decided against it, knowing that Arthur already had enough to worry about.

"Okay, I'll see you before seventh period?" Alfred smiled sheepishly.

"No, you don't need to meet me every passing time Alfred, just after lunch is fine," Arthur shook his head, indication 'no'. Alfred pouted, but smiled right away as he said goodbye to Arthur.

Arthur was surprised to be met by Alfred during passing time again before seventh period, Arthur scolding Alfred about not listening to him before telling Alfred that he'd be late to his class. Alfred simply laughed heartily. "Nonsense!"

So the next four days were filled with Alfred walking Arthur to almost every single one of his classes, being late to a few of his own. When he was, he had no excuse, but every now and then, one of his classmates would say 'He was walking his love to his class!' and he'd turn dark red. They were also filled with visiting Matthew and bringing him the 'prettiest' flowers for him and the most ridiculous 'Get Well' cards.

Arthur visited Francis's dorm for the first time in a while Friday night, Alfred busy with preparing the school auditorium for the school play that was to be performed Saturday night, Sunday morning and Sunday night.

"You've been awfully clingy with our dear Alfred lately," Francis grinned as he prepared some tea for Arthur and poured some wine for himself. "I'm lonely," he continued.

"Shut up, I have not been _clingy_ with Alfred. It's called Post Traumatic Stress," Arthur grumbled as he propped the crutches against the couch he was seated on. Francis sauntered over to the small living room Arthur had seated himself in and sat in the reclining chair across from Arthur, though didn't recline the seat.

"Naw, I can tell you're just falling for him," Francis smiled. Arthur was glad his tea wasn't ready yet, for he would've spit it out when Francis said that. "See? The look on your face proves it," Francis grinned before taking a sip of his wine. Arthur just wanted to shove the whole damn wine glass down the French bastard's throat for what he'd just said.

"Quit assuming," Arthur growled, glancing at the spot where the stitches in his torso were before looking back up at a smirking Francis. "What now?" Arthur bit, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn't even know why he'd come over to Francis's dorm. He would've gladly dealt with his drunk father over this frog if he kept claiming that Arthur was 'falling' for Alfred. As if.

"Oh, just imagining the look on your face when I say 'I told you so' sometime in the future," Francis smiled and took another sip of his wine, getting up when the tea kettle began whistling loudly. Arthur exhaled deeply, cringing slightly at the pain the reverberated from his scar when he did so.

"Matthew's expected to be discharged Sunday," Arthur decided to change the subject.

"Yeah, I already knew that," Francis answered from the small kitchenette.

"Please don't tell me you've snogged the poor boy yet."

"Nope!" Francis grinned, peeking into the living room before returning to the kitchenette. "Aren't you proud of me dear _Angleterre_?" his voice came from the small culinary area. Arthur rolled his eyes and responded with a firm 'no'. He heard Francis chuckle a bit in the kitchenette before appearing from the area, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. Arthur took it, hesitantly thanking Francis for it before taking a sip after blowing at the steam. It was still hot, but he was used to it. "Haven't seen you at the airport lately."

"I was there Monday, Wednesday and am going tomorrow morning," Arthur answered without looking up from his lap.

"Guess I wasn't there when you were," Francis shrugged his shoulders. Arthur swore he heard a bit of disappointment in Francis's voice and hesitated with what he was going to say next.

"Uh…sorry I never really hung out with you lately…I'm just…our of sorts," Arthur sighed, looking down into his murky reflection rippling lightly in his tea.

"No, it's fine," was Francis's reply and Arthur looked up to see Francis doing the same thing as him, the only difference being that Francis's beverage was wine. Arthur smiled none the less at Francis's reply.

"You've changed," Arthur remarked.

"No I haven't," Francis grinned, standing up to saunter over to Arthur. "How about we get something on tonight," his grin turned sly as he grabbed Arthur's hand. Arthur could only grin back up at Francis, finally having a good excuse to get himself out of this situation.

"Sorry frog, can't you see that I've got some stitches that could get messed up if we get it on?" his grin increased at the disappointed expression that took over Francis's features. "Later," Arthur pushed Francis away from himself, leaning back to drink the rest of his tea as Francis backed back into his reclining chair, resuming with his wine drinking.

"At least you said later," Francis grinned a bit after thinking over what Arthur had said.

"Yeah, too bad latter's a couple of weeks from now," Arthur grinned, Francis returning the gesture.

"Talk about a major cockblock."

XXXX

**W00t, over 5K+ words :D I'm so freaking happy—I was on such a freaking roll today :D Hope you liked it :) This isn't proof read, so please excuse any mistakes you spot. Please review too, I love to hear what you have to say. Peace out my friends :)**


	12. Chapter 12

** Hiya guys, I'm back ;) I really don't have much to say other than that my school's getting violent…had a huge ass fight yesterday morning that put us in lock-down and a while before that, someone busted a window and bled all over the place. Even before that we've had multiple arrests going on more often than last year. Jeez, but yeah, please enjoy ;)**

**XXXX**

Alfred shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he inspected the wall stained faintly with blood. He and Arthur were standing in the hallway the shootout had occurred, having gotten curious to whether all evidence was erased.

"Why didn't they clean these stains out?" Alfred asked, pointing at the stains that remained on the wall. Arthur turned and approached the spot Alfred was pointing at, the click of his crutches the only noise audible. Arthur hummed and tilted his head back slightly at what he was looking at.

"Probably weren't able to wash it out," Arthur answered. "Come on, we have to go," Arthur turned and began walking away, Alfred catching up easily. It was Saturday night and they were here for Alfred's first performance of the weekend. Arthur's schedule was basically empty over the weekends except for avoid his drunken father, so he was open for the activity. Alfred had been ecstatic and Arthur had to remind the American to not hug him so tightly.

"This'll be awesome, promise!" the actor piped, a large grin on his face.

Arthur smiled back at Alfred. "We'll see about that."

Arthur and Alfred parted ways near the entrance to the auditorium; Alfred heading backstage and Arthur picking a front row seat giving that they had gotten there early. As he headed down the aisle, seating himself in a front seat and settling his crutches against his seat, Arthur pulled out his mobile and shut it off. He knew it was smart to turn off his cellular during plays—it was kind of like being at a movie theater.

The auditorium eventually filled up to its maximum capacity and soon, the play was starting, it kicking off with bouncy, energetic western country music. As the play progressed, Arthur concluded that one could tell easily that the setting was in America, probably down in Alabama or somewhere like that. Another thing he noted was how good of an actor Alfred was. One minute he was Alfred, the next, he was the main character Ren.

Arthur peered over his shoulder and up in the balcony, smiling when he saw Kiku and Toris manning the spotlights. It was something simple and a good job for one like Kiku who didn't like to draw attention to himself. He turned back around to watch the play, cringing a bit at how Ariel, Alfred, or Ren's soon to be girlfriend would get so close to Alfred. Arthur knew it was all an act, but Alfred was a pretty damn convincing actor.

He slightly didn't want Alfred to become a big-time actor either. The other would obviously become swamped with stuff to do and would lose the time he already had with Arthur. The thought slightly scared him as well because Alfred might run into someone else who might become his best friend or something else, making Arthur a runners up or a third wheel. He didn't want that—Alfred was his only true friend other than Francis who he couldn't even consider a friend since the other probably only kept him around for the sex.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and returned his attention to the play, it coming to an end.

When the play ended, Arthur stood up shakily, getting assistance from the person sitting next to him before grabbing his crutches and jamming them into his ribs, making sure he didn't press them into his stitches. He had to admit, he was impressed with how good the actors were, some coming on par with Alfred. Arthur let the large amount of people leave the auditorium before actually leaving himself, hoping that it wasn't too crowded.

He then found Alfred and reunited with his friend, the America pulling Arthur into an excited hug. Arthur sputtered about them being in public and shoved Alfred off of him.

"So? Was it as great as I promised?" Alfred asked, the hope so thick in his voice Arthur knew it'd break Alfred's heart if he said no. But no wasn't his answer anyways, so he didn't have to worry about hurting the American actor in the making.

"I'm rather impressed Alfred, you're a good actor," Arthur nodded his head before being pulled into another hug, though this one hurt. "Ow! Alfred, my crutches are jamming into my side!" he yelped, wiggling out of Alfred's grasp. Alfred jumped back as if he had been burned and apologized multiple times.

Arthur smiled and said it was no problem and extracted his cellular, turning it back on. He was shocked to find that he had gotten a bunch of new text messages along with voice mails, all from Francis. He sighed heavily and mumbled under his breath, pondering over whether he should check them or not. He heard Alfred snicker over his shoulder.

"He's pretty determined to pester you as much as possible," he continued his snickering. Arthur huffed and decided with reading the first text in the order Francis had sent them.

**[French Frog]**

**Arthur! Please come to the hospital RIGHT NOW!**

**[French Frog]**

**Please Arthur, why aren't you responding?**

**[French Frog]**

**Do I have to tell you what happened to get you here?**

**[French Frog]**

**Matthew's lungs just failed spontaneously and he obviously stopped breathing.**

**[French Frog]**

**Are you not worried? Please come…**

**[French Frog]**

**Arthur, if you're not coming, then I'll have to text Alfred.**

**[French Frog]**

**Why aren't either of you responding?**

**[French Frog]**

**Matthew died.**

Arthur was horrified at what had been texted to him and he suddenly hoped that Francis was playing a prank on him. Unfortunately, this was too cruel of a prank for even Francis. He suddenly felt cold and his mind was numb along with the rest of him. Alfred's grin dropped as well when he saw Arthur paled considerably and he worriedly peeked over the Brit's shoulder to see what Arthur was freaking out about.

When he read those two words sent by Francis, Alfred paled and numbed as well. After a long moment of wordless silence, Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrist far too tightly and drug the shaggy haired blond off to his truck, Arthur yelping in slight pain, dropping one of his crutches. He tried to get Alfred to slow down, now being forced to bounce on one leg unless he wanted to snap something.

Arthur was shoved into Alfred's truck and Alfred rounded the front of the vehicle before jumping into the driver's seat, gripping the wheel tightly with one hand while jamming the keys into the ignition and starting the truck. The tires of his truck screeched on the pavement as he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal; speeding off.

They were quiet the whole way, and about half way through their journey, Arthur had begun crying silently to himself, his head bowed in a painful position. He would rub at the tears every now and then, but they never ceased their falling. His hands were shaking in his lap and he couldn't open his eyes since they were squeezed shut on their own accord.

Alfred's heart broke when he heard the quiet sobbing coming from Arthur who was seated next to him. He wanted to just hug Arthur and never separate from the other. His heart was squeezing painfully in his chest with the combination of Matthew's death and Arthur's mourning.

As they pulled into the parking lot to the hospital, Alfred killed the engine, but didn't hurry out. He sat in the driver's seat for a long period of time before he finally let the tears fall. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, removing his glasses to wipe at the tears falling from his eyes. He sniffled, having become horribly congested. Alfred opened his eyes when he felt pressure applied to his abdomen. He was met with a mop of sandy blond hair and felt Arthur wrap his arms around Alfred's waist, nuzzling his face into Alfred's abdomen. He cradled Arthur's head in his own arms and rested his cheek in Arthur's soft hair.

Alfred soon found the position uncomfortable and slid the seat back before pulling Arthur into his lap. It was starting to get cold in the truck, the snow having just started to fall once more that night. It was slightly cramped, the position they were in, but it was much better than the original one they were in.

They cried silently for about ten more minutes before deciding to go in. As they entered, they were met by a solemn looking Francis in the lobby. When the Frenchman saw the two, he stood up from his seat and approached the two, not missing the signs of tears they had just shed earlier.

He silently led them to Matthew's hospital room. It took Arthur a very long time to notice, but he eventually did.

The heart monitor was beeping. Matthew was alive.

"Francis…Matthew's not dead," Arthur announced quietly. Francis tilted his head back and hummed as if he had just remembered something. He then looked back at the two blonds, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Eh…I kind of had to lie about that to get you to come here…though the lungs failing thing is true…well…his heart did sort of stop for a while so he _did_ kind of die then…" Francis itched at the back of his head, going as far as looking sheepish. He knew well how Arthur would react and he was currently bracing himself for the hurricane that was bound to be released on him any moment.

"You…lied…about Matthew's death…" Arthur ground out. Francis nodded his head, backing away slightly. "You…_bastard!_" Arthur wailed, jumping at Francis, but being held back by Alfred. "You didn't have to do that! You have no faith in me do you? I was at Alfred's play, remember? And I would've came right away if my cellular was on!" Arthur fell into a long, loud lecture while he tried to tug himself out of Alfred's grip. Alfred's strong arms around him felt nice, not too tight, but just enough to keep Arthur from mauling Francis. "You're damn lucky you're in a hospital you damn frog!"

"Yes I am."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll end up somewhere _worse_ than a hospital!" Arthur continued, tugging against Alfred's hold once more.

After the long struggle of calming Arthur down, they finally managed to do so. Arthur huffed and seated himself in a chair that had been placed next to Matthew's hospital bed. Matthew was unconscious and the two blonds that had just arrived noted how many wires Matthew was hooked up to.

"They don't know what caused it; so they're holding onto Matthew for two more weeks," Francis added as if it were an afterthought. Arthur could just nod silently before looking over at Alfred who hadn't said anything since his struggle with calming Arthur down.

"Hey…are you okay Alfred?" Arthur asked. Alfred remained silent.

Then he smiled. "Yeah, I fantastic now…I'm just so relieved Mattie's okay…well…sort of," Alfred answered. Arthur was shocked at Alfred's reaction—it made his reaction seem like an overreaction. How could Alfred just brush the fact that Francis had lied about his cousin dying off?

"How…how can you just be fine with that?" he soon voiced his wonder.

"Well this is definitely better than actually having Mattie die so it's like…I'm just happy that he's not actually dead," Alfred tried to clarify. It was true though; this was much better than actually having the boy die. If he would've actually died, Arthur would never forgive himself for not being there and he was sure Alfred would feel the same.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Arthur agreed, his gaze sliding over to look at Matthew's peaceful face.

Alfred rolled his head around, his neck slightly sore from being craned back to watch Arthur fly. It was bitterly cold and he wondered how the Brit could handle the temperature. He could barely endure it down on earth and it must be freezing with being higher up along with the cold wind whipping at your face.

Sighing, along with watching the huff of his breath puff into the frigid air, Alfred stuffed his cold hands into his pockets. It was near midnight and they had left Matthew's hospital room around ten at night giving that the nurses were borderline threatening them. Alfred didn't feel like going home alone and was planning on asking Arthur over once the Brit landed his plane. He had a better chance at having Arthur say yes anyways.

He couldn't help but wonder what it was like to fly up there on a warm day though. It must've been great. Perfect weather always made things close to perfect. The wind was probably cool on your skin, but not enough to be deemed cold. The sky was probably beautiful up there too at sunset when the sun would paint the sky interesting colors. He'd have to ask Arthur what it was like up there at sunset sometime.

Alfred shook himself from his thoughts when he heard the aircraft's landing gear hit the runway. Looking up from his spot, a safe distance from the runway, Alfred grinned, stood and walked over to the hangar where Arthur would then pilot his Boeing to. When that was finished, as Arthur jumped down from the cockpit, Alfred swung the pilot into a hug, welcoming the Brit back from the sky.

"Alfred, Alfred," Arthur grinned, the side of his face pressed comfortably into Alfred's chest, his eyes closed in happiness. "I'm going to need a new crutch...I kind of lost it when you drug me off to the hospital to see Matthew," Arthur continued, letting their body heat warm him up. It was freezing up there, but not enough to keep him from flying in the first place.

"Aw…sorry 'bout that, we'll see what we can do about it later. Hey you wanna come over to my house? I don't really want to go home alone after all of that," Alfred grinned sheepishly down at Arthur. The pilot simply nuzzled his face into Alfred's chest once more and hummed. Alfred took that as a yes. "Great! C'mon Artie, let's go! I've got a great movie we can watch!" Alfred piped, dragging Arthur away from the airport.

Arthur soon found himself being tossed into the truck once more, only this time he wasn't consumed with cold fear and numb sorrow. Instead, he was giddy and even excited. So the car drive home was filled with a lighthearted conversation, Alfred talking about the play they had just attended and Arthur talking about what he was planning on doing for winter break.

When Alfred pulled into the driveway to his home, he jumped out of the driver's seat and met Arthur on the other side of his truck, hugging the pilot once more, making sure he didn't agitate Arthur's scar like he seemed to have trouble with avoiding. Alfred couldn't help hugging Arthur all of the time. At first he had thought that it was just because Arthur was fun and comfortable to hug, but was soon coming to a conclusion that he wanted to spend as much time with Arthur in his arms as possible. He just wanted to be close to Arthur whenever he could.

"So what movie are we watching?" Arthur soon asked once Alfred had separated from the pilot.

"Well, actually, I've got a few, so you can choose which one you wanna watch," he grinned. "You forgot to take these off," he continued, his grin widening as he tapped the aviators goggles atop Arthur's head. Arthur looked up, obviously unable to see them and reached up to take them off. Alfred kept him from doing so though by grasping his hand. "Nah, keep 'em on, they look cute on ya anyways," his grin turned into a soft smile. Arthur smiled back up at Alfred, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks at Alfred's statement.

They entered Alfred's home, Alfred having to unlock to door meaning his father was off on duty with Liberty. He led Arthur into the living room that housed the large television before heading into the kitchen to get them some snacks. He was currently making some popcorn and gathering a few soda cans. He wasn't sure if Arthur drank soft drinks, but he was positive Arthur did. Who could live without pop?

He went into the cupboards once more to fetch some potato chips as well for himself. He again wondered if he should get Arthur some, but decided against it, having never seen the other eat them. Besides, if he wanted some they could share.

"Alfred~" Arthur's voice came from literally behind Alfred's back as the pilot hugged him from behind. Alfred grinned and stopped what he was doing.

"You're awfully affectionate now," Alfred turned to look at the Brit who had his face snuggled in between Alfred's shoulder blades. "Francis will assume things if he ever saw us in this position," Alfred added with a light snicker, something flashing in Arthur's green eyes.

"Too much has happened tonight. My head's malfunctioning," Arthur's voice was muffled from the fabric of Alfred's shirt. "And I just flew…Francis said I get strange after flying…is it true?" Arthur continued, his voice almost childish. Alfred grinned and spun around after getting Arthur to loosen his grip.

"Yeah, that's definitely true, you're definitely more affectionate, kind of giddy and all smiles," Alfred looked down into Arthur's eyes. Now was his chance to finish what he had started at the Italian restaurant. He was about to lean in to fill in the space in between them before the microwave began beeping.

"Popcorn's ready," Arthur grinned, slipping out of Alfred's arms like soap to wet hands. Alfred irritably blamed the microwave for making his life difficult and headed into the living room, asking if Arthur had made up his mind on what movie to watch as he plopped himself onto one side of the couch. He heard a few noises come from the kitchen before Arthur appeared from said room, a bowl of popcorn in his hands along with the two sodas; one in his hand, the other on top of it.

"You got the chips?" Alfred asked, noting said snack's absence. "Never mind, I'll get it myself," Alfred waved a hand, getting back up to retrieve his bag of potato chips. Arthur sat himself on the couch and looked at the four DVD cases on the coffee table set in front of the couch. Ah, leave it to Alfred to have a whole bunch of action movies, though that mystery movie slightly interested him.

It didn't take long for Alfred to return and he asked if Arthur had made up his mind; so the two ended up watching the mystery movie that had caught Arthur's attention. Alfred said that he loved it and had watched it multiple times last summer.

XXX

They had said that they didn't expect for Matthew to wake up for about three days, but the boy had decided to open his eyes for Francis that morning; a weak smile stretching at his lips when he saw the Frenchman.

"_B-bonjour…_" Matthew managed to get out. They hadn't expected Matthew to speak for a week and here he was, never ceasing to amaze.

"Shh, do not speak _mon amour_, you'll hurt yourself," Francis shushed, taking a hold of Matthew's hand. The boy closed his eyes and Francis thought that he had fallen back into unconsciousness, but was proved wrong when he opened his eyes once more, his smile still there. Matthew looked exhausted yet content with having just Francis by his side.

"You're here…" and Francis had to shush the Canadian once more, but Matthew seemed determined to speak with Francis. "That's ni-ice of you…" his voice faltering horribly in the middle of the word 'nice'. His breath was becoming slightly labored and Francis had to shush him for the third time.

"Please Matthew, you'll hurt yourself if you keep talking…save it for later," Francis urged, squeezing Matthew's hand with his own. "Your lungs failed last night and they're going to keep you for two more weeks, so you have plenty of time to talk later," Francis added. Matthew nodded his head and peered up at the white ceiling.

"Can I ask…you a…favor…?" Matthew asked, blinking slowly as he fought for his own voice.

"As long as you stop talking after this," Francis answered, rubbing Matthew's forehead with his free hand.

"Can…you kiss me…when I…get out…?" he asked, a light blush dusting his cheeks, tired dark violet-blue eyes gazing at icy blue ones. Francis simply grinned and squeezed Matthew's hand once more.

"Sure thing _mon amour_," he answered, rubbing one of Matthew's eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. Matthew smiled and stopped talking like he had promised. It took a moment, but Francis soon noticed that Matthew had fallen asleep.

XXXX

**It's 1:30 in the morning :P So sorry for any grammatical/spelling errors…very tired too :P I hope you liked this, I really don't have anything to say except for the usual: please review, I love to hear what you guys have to say and peace out my friends ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

** Howdy guys, Sky here ;) Lol, that made me feel like a cowboy/girl. I don't really have anything else to say, so enjoy ;)**

**XXXX**

Alfred felt pretty bad for Arthur, who jumped every time a bag of chips was popped open loudly. Students attending the high school they were at had a bad habit of making the bags explode. Arthur had yet to get over the shootout that had happened about a week and a half ago.

"Have you noticed how violent people are getting?" Alfred couldn't help but ask. "I mean like, there's been more fights and stuff," he continued, Arthur turning his head to look at Alfred. "Heard three guys pulled knives on the basketball team," he added.

"Yeah, I heard about that just a period ago," Arthur nodded his head. "And there's a lot more fights going on too."

"They're getting cocky," Alfred remarked smartly. He watched Arthur take a long drink of his milk before looking at him once more.

"Who knows?" he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe something like that will happen again—all I can say is that you shouldn't get too comfortable," Arthur continued. All Alfred could do was nod his head and glance at the crutches Arthur had been put into. They had gone back to the hospital Sunday to get Arthur a new crutch since they couldn't find it when they went back to school Sunday morning.

They resumed eating their lunch after that. Alfred didn't really have much to say to Arthur, not exactly having anything else very interesting going on in his own life. He did plan on asking Arthur to the dance that was to be hosted by their school the day before winter break. Alfred was really nervous though, finding it ridiculous for some reason and just wanting to skip out. But then again, he really wanted to go to the dance, it had an interesting theme to it.

"Hey…wanna go to the Stoplight Dance with me? Ya know…" he blushed and itched at the back of his head. "Uh…uh…th-the one with the color theme? I-it's the day before winter break…so I was wondering if you were open," Alfred grinned sheepishly at the British pilot sitting across from him. Arthur simply looked up before returning to eating his lunch. Alfred assumed that he'd been rejected and was about to apologize for even bringing it up.

"I'll check my schedule," Arthur finally answered, looking up at Alfred from his lunch and Alfred swore that he saw a faint smile stretching at Arthur's thin lips. "And why is it called the Stoplight Dance?"

Alfred's grin got a little more confident. "Ah, thought you'd ask that. You see, there's a color theme to it and the colors are red, green and yellow—like a stoplight," Alfred started. "You wear green if you're available, yellow if you're…complicated and red if you're taken," he continued his explanation. At least Arthur looked lightly interested now.

"That's actually a bit interesting," he stated. "…Yeah, I'll go if my schedule allows it," he smiled. Alfred's face lit up like a Christmas tree and Arthur expected for the America to reach over and pull him into a hug. But it didn't happen, Alfred for once remembering that Arthur had some stitches that would hurt if he pulled the British pilot into a hug from across the table. He would never _ever_ admit it, but he was disappointed.

Alfred and Arthur drove their way to the hospital after school, Alfred insisting that they visit Matthew and drug Arthur along with him. Arthur had told Alfred that they might not let them go in to visit Matthew and Alfred had ignored him. So when the two entered and denied access to Matthew's hospital room, Arthur found himself getting into the truck of a sulking American.

The American was now driving Arthur to his apartment, having nothing to do after going to the hospital and being rejected. They drove in silence and when he pulled up to the building, Arthur left without a word. He remained parked in his spot, watching Arthur enter the building, convincing himself that he stayed just to make sure Arthur didn't slip on the ice under the snow.

As he drove off to his house, he happily though about the possibility of going to the Stoplight Dance with Arthur. Hopefully by then he'd be wearing yellow to the dance and probably even red. The drive lasted ten minutes before his finally made it to his house. Sighing as he killed the engine, Alfred sat in his truck for a brief moment, staring at his house. It was lonely without Matthew, Arthur, his father or Liberty's company.

Finally getting out, he entered his home, tossing the loop of keys on the coffee table in the living room, flinching at the noise it made. Hopefully the impact didn't crack the glass the coffee table top was made out of. His energy soon died down after that small incident though, entering the kitchen to make himself a snack. He also checked the time. It was only four thirty in the afternoon and the sun was already setting…

Sighing, he extracted his cellular from his pocket and started a new text. He couldn't believe who he was going to text—he must be in dire need of entertainment.

**[Amerique]**

**m brd..not that im invitg u ovr! But im srsly bord….**

He set the device on the countertop as he stuffed an unfinished hamburger into the microwave—it was likely Matthew's. The thought of Matthew saddened him a bit too. The boy wasn't coming home anytime soon he had concluded earlier at the hospital. He really wished he had been there to protect his cousin. He jumped slightly when his phone began vibrating at the same time as the microwave went off. He snatched his cellular off of the countertop before it could vibrate right off of it and flipped it open.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**What do you want me to do about it?**

Alfred snorted at the response he got, though it wasn't a humored sound.

**[Amerique]**

**dunno hws maty?**

**[Bonerfoy**]

**Out cold.**

Okay, Bonerfoy was being irritating now. Huffing, Alfred jabbed in his reply.

**[Amerique]**

**i ment his conditin**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Still the same as yesterday. How's our dear Angleterre?**

Alfred sighed. He knew Matthew's recovery might take a while, but it already felt like his Canadian cousin had been in the hospital for months. He missed Matthew's company—especially his cooking. But mostly his company, don't get Alfred wrong.

**[Amerique]**

**thts arty rite? Idunno I jus droped im of**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Yes mon ami, Angleterre is Arthur.**

Alfred set his cellular down, figuring that his texting with Francis had finished when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his hand as he retrieved a ketchup bottle. A bit bewildered at who else would text him, Alfred flipped open his cellular and was shocked at what he read.

"The fuck…?"

**[Artie]**

**yo bstrd im need sum yer shit**

Blinking a few times, Alfred stared down at the screen that had dimmed due to how much time had passed. He shakily jabbed in his response, hoping that Arthur didn't actually think of him as a bastard.

**[American Idiot]**

**arty? Wtf wats rong dude?**

**[Amerique]**

**dude wats rong wit arty? E jus txt me n sonds rely wrd…**

He then began drumming his fingers against the kitchen table, awaiting a response from either person he had just texted.

**[Artie]**

**wut? Oh sorry, wrong nmbr)**

**[Angleterre]**

**oi bstrd need sum your stufr**

Confused, yet relieved that Arthur wasn't angry at him, Alfred thus awaited for Francis's reply. He really hoped there wasn't something wrong with Arthur. What if he was mugged and some stranger now had his phone? He began to panic and jumped when his phone began vibrating in his hand once more.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**What do you mean?**

He was about to respond when his phone began vibrating again.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Oh, don't worry, just got a text from Angleterre. He's just smashed. Poor guy gets drunk so easily ;)**

**[French Frog]**

**Arthur, the wine's gone**

Alfred had to read Francis's response a few times over before finally registering what it said. Drunk? Arthur? Arthur was underage!

**[Amerique]**

**drunk?wtf?**

**[Angleterre]**

**wns not gone u bastard. You just drank it al n I bt u still have sum left…**

**[French Frog]**

**I am sorry Angleterre, Ludwig finished the last bottle. You know how he gets around alcohol.**

Francis knew he was lying to a drunk Arthur, but he had to keep Arthur from wailing on him about wine. He just had a bad feeling he'd be in a situation much more headache inducing than the one he was in now if he let Arthur know he actually did have wine.

He chuckled at how panicked Alfred's text appeared. The other was such a boy scout—he was acting like it was a crime to drink…well…Arthur was underage, so it was a crime, but still. The Brit was in high school, people would start drinking underage sooner or later. Francis had started freshman year of high school.

**[Angleterre]**

**Bastard**

Francis chuckled at the response he'd gotten.

Alfred was now lightly pacing back and forth, waiting for Francis to reply. Arthur was drunk damn it! Was this not something to be concerned about? He'd seen the results of alcoholics and he didn't wasn't his dear pilot becoming one…shut up, you did now just hear him call Arthur _his_.

He jumped for his cellular comically when it began vibrating in announcement of a new text message.

**[Artie]**

**Al!1! com oer ur my bstst frend in the whole wide world!1!**

He wanted to 'aww' and grumble at the same time. The guy was drunk and was probably speaking false words anyways…err…texting false words was more like it.

**[Amerique]**

**is it tru? r u drunk? ur gonna end lik yer daad!**

**[Artie]**

**wat?Nooo I just want a hug:(**

Slightly taken aback at the sudden confession, Alfred reread it, wondering if the horrible spelling and grammar made him read it wrong. He reread it three more times before concluding that the other had actually sent him that. Sitting back in the seat he was in, Alfred contemplated over whether he should go over and drive Arthur home or just stay where he is. It was better to go help Arthur home giving that he was currently a vulnerable drunk…

Sighing, Alfred rubbed his forehead and then pondered over how long Arthur could've been going out getting drinks. The Brit likely had a fake I.D. since he was underage and he then wondered if Arthur had gotten one willingly or against his will…or as a gift without even having to ask. Francis was the likely culprit, but he couldn't blame the Frenchman yet. If Arthur got it willingly, he wouldn't be able to look at the pilot the same ever again.

**[American Idiot]**

**im coming**

**[Artie]**

**Tnk you :)**

He pocketed his phone and went into the living room to grab his car keys. Picking them up and inspecting the glass tabletop, Alfred sighed in slight relief that it hadn't been cracked or chipped. He then rushed out the door and jumped into his car.

The first place he went was Arthur's apartment, hoping that his father hadn't offered Arthur since that was another possibility of what could've happened. He dashed up the steps, not bothering to take the elevator and finally made it to the desired floor, bounding over to the door that gave entry to Arthur's small apartment.

Alfred knocked on the door and was met by Arthur's farther much like the last time he'd visited. The guy looked the same too—grumpy and hung over.

"Where's Arthur?" he asked peeking around the guy in an attempt to get a glimpse of the small room and hopefully Arthur. "Just…want to see him," he added, not wanting to reveal Arthur's underage drinking to his father. Whether the guy would respond positively or negatively, likely negatively, he didn't want to figure out.

Arthur's father simply stared at Alfred, the sourness in his expression becoming more visible by the second. It was excruciating and hell, Alfred would admit the guy was pretty intimidating with the way he was looking at him.

"Boy went off somewhere…don't know where. Now go," and he shut the door on Alfred without another word. Huffing, Alfred crossed his arms and brainstormed over where else Arthur could get ahold of alcohol. Francis was another possibility, but the guy sounded like he didn't have Arthur over at his place when he was texting with him, so Alfred concluded that Arthur was at a bar.

So he bound out of the apartment building and jumped back into his truck, jamming the keys into the ignition and turning them roughly. He sped off, tires sliding dangerously on the ice hidden under the snow.

When he arrived at the first bar that came into mind, Alfred was obviously rejected for being underage. So he found himself sitting on the bench outside of the building, staring into the windows in hopes of spotting Arthur. So far, no luck.

He decided to stay for a few more minutes before leaving to check another one. There were quite a few bars around this area, so Alfred had plenty of areas to check. But he figured that asking Arthur where he was would be worth the shot.

**[American Idiot]**

**wre r u?**

**[Artie]**

**rite her**

Alfred was surprised at how quickly Arthur responded and looked up giving that the text implied that Arthur was pretty close…unless it was another drunk text. Fortunately, he didn't have to look for long, for the familiar clicking of crutches made itself known. Just as he turned to glance at the source of the sound, the person operating on the crutches slipped and fell, Alfred jumping forward to catch them. Luckily enough—it was Arthur.

The first thing Alfred had to say though, was far from friendly. "What the fucking hell are you doing? Getting your ass drunk?" he made sure he sounded firm and assertive as he furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at the mop of sandy blond hair. He heard a few mumbles come from the pilot that was currently clinging to him, but couldn't make them out, for it was muffles and incoherent. "What?"

"Jus' needed to stop worryin'…" Arthur mumbled, tightening his grip around Alfred's torso. Alfred's hardened gaze softened significantly at how sober Arthur sounded if it weren't for the abbreviated words. He was likely being truly honest as well.

"C'mon, I'll drive you home…" Alfred sighed, pulling Arthur off of him and looking into those hazed over green eyes. How many drinks did the guy take in? Arthur wasn't even looking at him—he was looking at the stoplight just above his head and to the left. "Hey Artie? I'm right here," he grasped Arthur's chin and turned his head slightly to the right so the pilot was looking him in the eyes. The action made Alfred himself blush giving what it implied and how flushed Arthur's face was.

"Ai know yer right here…" Arthur's smile was so sweet that Alfred almost fell for it, but soon reminded himself that Arthur was intoxicated. Arthur's gaze slowly migrated to the left once more, his gaze seemingly focused now on that stoplight.

"Let's go Artie…I'll take you home," Alfred repeated.

"Noo…" Arthur whined, clinging back onto Alfred, looking up at the American, though not exactly at him, again, looking up at the stoplight behind Alfred. "I don't wanna deal with daddy…" he continued, nuzzling his face into Alfred's chest only to be pushed away. All Arthur could do was pout up at Alfred, hoping that he didn't look like a child.

Alfred melted at the look Arthur was giving him and something down south stirred. Biting his lip, Alfred knew that he'd be taking advantage of if he did something…fun with Arthur. So he hurried the drunk to his truck and almost threw him into the passenger's seat.

"What thuh fuck? Where's yer wheel?" Arthur slurred, his hands in the ten-two position, though grasping nothing. Alfred snorted humorously, covering his mouth to keep any more noise from escaping. "Al~" Arthur turned to look at Alfred and again, was looking slightly to the left of Alfred. "Yer wheel disappeared…" his smile was happy and carefree. Alfred was happy that Arthur wasn't an angry drunk…well…Arthur wasn't exactly angry about anything at the moment, so he didn't know yet. Arthur might be dangerous when angry and drunk.

"Don't worry Artie, you're in America," Alfred flashed Arthur a charming smile without knowing it himself and Arthur's face went beet red, though his smile never left. Alfred began their drive to his home.

When they arrived, he stepped out and had to open the door for Arthur who was clearly having trouble figuring out what opened it. Alfred then had Arthur lean on him as he grabbed the Brit's crutches, carrying them himself. Arthur slipped more than necessary and Alfred found that the drunk pilot was a huge hassle.

Alfred shoved the door to his home open and almost literally threw Arthur on the couch with how the Brit was moving. The pilot giggled when he hit the cushions and immediately sat up, grinning at Alfred as he crossed his legs and rested his hands in between them.

Looking out the window, Alfred noted that it was almost pitch black outside with the lack of streetlights in his neighborhood. "You need anything Artie?" Alfred asked, smiling softly at the sandy haired blond whose head lolled to the side, still smiling at Alfred.

"You promised me a hug," Arthur grinned, blinking a few times as he did so. Alfred rolled his eyes—he hadn't _promised _the Brit, but then again, he didn't decline him. So with mild amusement, Alfred approached the couch and swooped Arthur up into a hug, twirling the giggling pilot slowly.

"You're such a child," Alfred smiled when he set the intoxicated of the two back on the couch.

"Am not," the Brit grumbled, crossing his arms, his smile finally dropping.

Later that night, Alfred was slightly surprised that Arthur was still awake. Also, the feeling he had felt down south earlier was back and he couldn't ditch it this time. He couldn't help but notice how red Arthur's face was and when the other had begun to complain about Alfred's home being too hot, he'd noticed the small amount of sweat being produced from Arthur's skin. The alcohol was obviously heating Arthur up, not Alfred's home because the fireplace wasn't even on and it was about sixty nine degrees Fahrenheit in there. Too cold for the Minnesotan winters mind you—Alfred just didn't have the heart to turn on the heat when Arthur was already complaining about being hot. That thought spawned dirty images in his brain and he ended up looking everywhere but at the pilot.

"Hey Al~" Arthur smiled, his eyes still hazed over and half lidded. "You got some beer for me? 'M thirsty…" he leaned over and lay his head on Alfred's abdomen. If Alfred didn't know better, he would've thought that Arthur was flirting with him.

"No Artie…" Alfred sighed, pushing the lightly sweating pilot off of him. "You've already had too much," Arthur pouted and concluded that he should try to seduce his precious Al into giving him his beer.

"Please~?" Arthur ran a finger down Alfred's arm and with his other hand, walked two fingers up the American's chest. Alfred's brain immediately caught on to what Arthur was doing and he hastily excused himself to take care of his 'problem'.

Arthur remained haphazardly on the couch before burying his head in the cushion, nuzzling the fabric sleepily. Stupid Alfred for not giving him more beer. With an irritated grumble, Arthur shoved the pillow off of the couch, finding it more comfortable without it on it. He stretched his whole body before rolling off of his belly and onto his side, facing the back rest of the couch. It didn't take long for him to doze off either.

Alfred quietly crept down the staircase a while later, hoping that Arthur had fallen asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with the underage drunk anymore. Peeking into the room, he sighed in relief to find that Arthur had comfortably fallen asleep, managing to snuggle with his own arm. Every now and then Arthur would flex his toes in his sleep before falling still once more. Alfred soon found that Arthur looked pretty cute lying there asleep on his couch.

Smiling as he approached the piece of furniture holding the pilot, Alfred stopped right next to the arm of the couch. Alfred reached down to rake his fingers through the Brit's hair and got a widening smile in response along with a content sound before Arthur reached out unconsciously and latched onto Alfred's arm. Grunting when he was pulled down, Alfred soon found himself half standing, half on Arthur. With a sigh, he wiggled his arm out of Arthur's hold and easily lifted the shaggy haired blond.

He pondered over putting him in the guest room or his room. He assumed that Arthur would freak out if he awoke next to Alfred, so he decided to set the sleeping young man on the guest bed. He stood up straight and looked down at Arthur's peaceful expression. Again, he bent over slightly to rake his fingers through Arthur's hair, unable to resist. He got a hum from the pilot, but this time Arthur didn't latch onto him. Alfred was both relieved that it didn't happen, but lightly disappointed that he didn't have an excuse to sleep with the pilot. With one final glance at the sleeping young man in his guest bed, Alfred flicked the lights off and left.

He would soon learn the horrors of a hung over Arthur.

XXXX

**You like drunk!Artie? Lol, I know he's more of an angry drunk, but he doesn't have anything to be angry about at the moment. He will in the future though ;) I guess that's a slight spoiler no? Oh well. Please review, I love to hear you feedback and peace out my friends :)**


	14. Chapter 14

** Hey I'm back ;) I've put myself on a schedule of updating my three Hetalia stories since I'm now juggling them and don't want to fall behind in either. So yeah, updates will be each three days ;) Enjoy~**

**XXXX**

Alfred smiled when he spotted Arthur standing in front of the apartment he lived in and eased on the brakes. He watched the pilot approach his truck and Alfred leaned across the interior to help Arthur open the door. The other set his crutches in the back seat with a little difficulty and Alfred's smile widened.

"So, how are you doing Artie? This will be the last time we see the school this year," he continued, his voice giddy.

"Wonderful," Arthur nodded his head and the two noted what colors they were wearing to the Stoplight Dance.

"Looks like you're available," Alfred's smile turned into a cheeky grin. Arthur was wearing a green sweater vest over a white long sleeve tee and long navy green pants, his torso under a thick jacket to fend off the Minnesota winter. Arthur nodded his head and his expression turned a little disappointed.

"Pokémon…really?" he grinned the best he could. It wasn't the brightly colored tee with Pikachu printed on the front that bothered him; it was the fact that Alfred was wearing yellow, thus meaning that he was trying to figure something out with someone. He had hoped for the other to wear green that night, but would never voice that, none the less, he was disappointed for some reason. "So…you're complicated?"

"Yep, tryin' to figure something out," Alfred nodded as they drove off to school. The first part of the drive was in a slightly awkward silence on Arthur's half while Alfred seemed completely comfortable with it. "You know…I feel kinda bad for Mattie...he couldn't exactly come," Alfred suddenly spoke up.

"Oh quit worrying about him, he's fine the last time we checked," Arthur snorted, shaking his head from side to side slightly.

"Yeah, I guess he wouldn't want me to worry about him…"

"The only thing to worry about," Arthur started, noting how Alfred slightly tensed at Arthur's words. "Is Francis getting into Matthew's pants while he's there," he concluded, smiling at how Alfred sighed in relief to himself before laughing, telling Arthur how he was being so true about that.

When they pulled up at the building that was their high school, Alfred killed the engine and grinned at it. "I'm so glad winter break's here…not sure I'd be able to handle this place much longer," and the two got out of the truck, Alfred rounding around the front to help Arthur get his crutches. They then entered the building and walked down the winding halls until they arrived at the gymnasium where the dance would be held.

That specific area had completely transformed too. Gilbert was fighting over the DJ system with Roderich who claimed to know music that would fit a dance since the silver haired teen tended to listen only to metal and loud dance music. There was a space open, serving as the dance floor and lights littered the area, tables here and there along with large speakers next to the DJ system and chairs in random areas for those who wanted to sit. Most of the tables had food on them, other students having been encouraged to bring whatever they wanted as long as drugs weren't snuck in. They had police go through them and Alfred could see his father with Liberty off at the other entrance to the gymnasium. He waved at them. The drinks were supplied by the school, too unsecure with letting a whole bunch of fourteen through eighteen year olds bringing beverages themselves.

The lights were slightly dimmed and from what Alfred could see, most people wore red, but there was a fair share of greens and yellows. He wondered what Matthew would've worn if he was allowed to come.

"Ah, Alfred you came," turning to look at who had spoken to him, he grinned when he spotted Kiku approaching the two, a Japanese style shirt on. It was red.

Alfred whistled. "How come you never told me man?" he grinned, throwing an arm around Kiku's shoulders when the Japanese boy stopped at his side. Arthur excused himself and left. Alfred was still grinning down at Kiku when the British pilot left. "Who's the lucky girl? Or is it a guy?" Alfred continued.

Kiku blushed and his gaze met his shoes. "Heracles…the boy over there…" Kiku pointed shyly over at the Greek teen standing by the DJ, watching Gilbert and Roderich wrestle over the system, clearly bored with what they were doing. Alfred let Kiku leave his side and Alfred left to talk with his other friends.

The American searched for Toris and soon found the other, him also wearing red. "Are all of my friends taken and not even telling me?" he wore a grin despite his tone and he stopped next to his friend, the Lithuanian greeting him with a nod of his head. "Who're you with?"

"Feliks," Toris answered, though his face turned red. "Feliks Lukasiewicz," he continued as if correcting himself.

"The cross dresser?" he grinned. Feliks had been in the play along with Alfred, but he never really took note of the other who had begged for a female role.

"And role player…" Toris mumbled, but Alfred didn't hear him.

"None the less, congratulations," he clapped his friend on the shoulder who only turned red and quietly thanked him.

"So…looks like you're having a couple complications with your relationship," Toris remarked after glancing at Alfred's bright yellow Pikachu shirt. "I-I mean, if it's personal, you don't have to tell me, I was just noticing your color," he continued frantically, not one to get into others personal space.

"Nah, don't worry Toris," Alfred smiled in a friendly way at his friend. "Just trying to think things over right now and don't want people flirting with me while I'm trying to get things straightened out…I'm just kinda in a rut right now," he continued, Toris nodding.

"Who is it? Err, mind if I ask?"

"No prob bro!" he then pulled Toris closer to himself, leaning over so his face was level with the shorter boy's as he looked over at Arthur, pointing a finger at him. "Mr. Pilot over there is who I'm kinda complicated with," his voice was low and quiet as if this were some huge secret. Toris didn't know why Alfred was being so quiet, but played along.

"What's his name? Arthur…Kirk…land?" he side glanced at Alfred who nodded his head.

"Yep. He's kinda 'stick-up-the-assish', but once you really get to know him, he's not that bad," Alfred explained, straightening back into a proper standing position. "He gets kinda air happy though," he continued with a snicker.

"Air happy?"

"That means kinda like…how do I explain it? Kinda like when people have adrenaline rushes after something super cool like driving one hundred right?" Alfred looked down at the Lithuanian who nodded his head. "Well, it's not really adrenaline, but more like…a cloud nine kinda thing—he gets kinda loopy after flying, it's one of the funniest things ever I tell you—he's so much nicer though when he's air happy."

"I like the name you gave it," Toris smiled.

_I Want to Know What Love is_ came on and Alfred looked over to the music system, grinning at the fact that Gilbert had lost the DJ system to Roderich. The silver haired senior would fight for the thing until the other died, so this was a first since there was no bloodshed—unless he had slipped some poison into Roderich's drink, but that wasn't likely.

He excused himself from Toris's company and sauntered off to find Arthur. It didn't take long, for he found the other hanging around the tables, a bottle of water in hand.

"Hey Artie," he greeted, Arthur looking up at Alfred before a smile stretched likely unwillingly at his lips before he returned the greeting. "Wanna dance?" he asked, a light shade of red covering his cheeks. Arthur turned a darker red, shifting his weight from one leg to another before nodding almost shyly. "Oh, will you be fine without your crutches?"

"Yes Alfred—remember that check-up you drove me to Wednesday?" Alfred nodded his head in remembrance. "They're expecting me out before New Year's," Arthur continued and Alfred swept Arthur into a hug, spinning him in circles. This had become routine whenever Arthur did something to make the American happy.

"Whoa! Artie that's _so_ awesome! We can do something super special for New Year's then! This is so amazing Artie! Artie~!" Arthur couldn't help but laugh gleefully as Alfred spun him in circles.

"Ah, Alfred let me down! If we keep this up, the song will be over," Arthur laughed and Alfred set him down. "Now walk me to the floor, I can't exactly walk completely on my own yet," Arthur continued, Alfred taking Arthur's hand and the two walked to the dance floor, Arthur limping deeply, but not enough to keep him from continuing.

The two took the proper dance position and begun. Alfred stumbled with the steps here and there, making sure he didn't step on Arthur's feet as he did so. Arthur had closed his eyes and was swayed into a cloud nine like state by the time the chorus came around. They were attracting stares since most couples present were straight save for Kiku, Toris and a few choice others. But then again, they weren't paying attention to those around them.

Some of Alfred's fellow acting buddies were snapping photos on their cellular, snickering among each other.

"Hey Al?" he was so caught up in the music along with their swaying steps that he almost missed Arthur's voice. He was ecstatic about the nickname too—it was verbal this time! Alfred looked down at Arthur whose eyes were closed and hummed in question, a smile at his face. "This song's beautiful," Arthur remarked, eyes still closed and head lightly pressed against Alfred's chest comfortably.

"I know," Alfred answered as he lightly tilted Arthur's chin up, his thumb and index finger doing most of the work. He leaned in and their lips met. Alfred heard a few girls 'aww' over the music, but tuned it out. Arthur tasted like Earl Grey tea and the sky after a rainy day and the sky itself—a bit similar to his scent, but very different at the same time. His lips weren't soft, but they weren't rough either and his heart swelled at the feeling of them against his own. He wasn't sure how he identified the specific flavor of tea—it was just a feeling he had.

And he had wondered why it had taken so long to pull this off.

XXX

Alfred stretched and grinned up at the ceiling. Ah, winter break had officially started after last night. After their kiss, Arthur had turned red and they continued to dance until the social gathering ended. He then proceeded with driving the pilot home and hugged him goodbye, the sandy blond smiling and hugging him back. He asked if he could kiss Arthur again and the shorter had turned red and said 'maybe later' before turning to enter the apartment building. That was the only disappointment of the night.

Jumping out of bed, the first thing Alfred did was pick up his cellular and dial Arthur's number. Hopefully the Brit was up at seven in the morning on a Saturday. It was likely, but that didn't mean the pilot was incapable of sleeping in. The thought made Alfred smile though, since it was such an out of character thing for Arthur to sleep in, albeit a cute thought.

"_Hello Alfred," _came Arthur's voice on the other side of the line. Grinning widely at hearing the other's voice, Alfred happily greeted the other. "_Yes Alfred, I know you're happy about winter break finally being here, why'd you call me so early?"_

"I just wanted to hear you voice," Alfred grinned, plopping himself onto the mattress behind him. His grin widened when Arthur stuttered into the phone, mentally picturing the pilot's blushing face. "I also wanted to ask you if you wanted to come over for winter break ya know?" he then asked once Arthur had calmed himself slightly. "I mean like…stay over at my place?"

There is a brief silence before Arthur finally answers. "_Sure Alfred. I can come over."_

"Yes! Thank you Artie! Thank you so much! Man, you have no idea how much I want to hug you right now!" Alfred piped, pumping a fist into the air excitedly.

Arthur smiled fondly on his side of the line. "_You can hug me when you pick me up—I can't come over until the twenty fourth though_."

"Whaat? Artie that's not cool! That's like…seven days from now!" Alfred's smile dropped along with his shoulders. He could just picture the British pilot rolling his eyes at him for his childish arguing. "Can't you come over like…right now?"

"_No Alfred and it's five days from now, not a week_," Arthur corrected. Alfred pouted at the unfairness to it in his point of view. "_Just be patient, I'm sure you can wait for me_," Arthur then continued. Alfred didn't want to be rude, but what else did Arthur have to do over winter break other than deal with his drunk father? Most of his family was in England and…there was Francis, but he was sure Bonerfoy was busy with visiting Matthew.

Speaking of Matthew he wondered when the other would get out of the hospital. "Fine. Bye Artie."

"_Goodbye Alfred_," and the two hung up. Sighing and falling back on his bed, Alfred stared up at the ceiling once more. After a bit more of his minor sulking, Alfred stood up and flipped his cellular back open to text the wavy haired Frenchman.

**[Amerique]**

**kised arty last nite :) kongratolat me**

He pocketed his phone and headed into the bathroom to finish his morning routine.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**The way you spelt congratulate frightens me mon ami. Congratulations ;)**

**[Amerique]**

**i no rite? sry 4 my speling…2 lzy 2 do it n hws maty?**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Being discharged on the twenty forth ;) **

His toothbrush dropped out of his mouth as he read that. He read it a second time and a third before pumping his fist into the air, doing a small victory dance that consisted of a few pelvic thrusts and a bit of disco and Michael Jackson. Arthur would've probably been horribly embarrassed at that and he made a mental note to do it in public around the pilot sometime.

**[Amerique]**

**AWSUM KICK ASSERY!1! hey i jus did a epic vktry dnce remind me 2 do it arond arty somtim, im shur hed be supr embaresd at it XD**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Can do Amerique. Matthew's been sleeping a lot still though, say he needs a lot of sleep once he's out.**

**[Amerique]**

**how much?**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**He's out most of the day. Sometimes wakes up delusional, but nothing severe :)**

Delusional? Wasn't that where you thought you were somewhere else at a different point in your life or something?

**[Amerique]**

**uh…isnt beeng delosinl bad? por guy…wats his bran comin up wit?**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Woke up one day thinking it was Thanksgiving yesterday.**

**[Amerique]**

**dispit the situaton, i woodlve lovd 2 se that…lol i think im going to hel 4 that 1**

**[Amerique]**

**thnx non the les :)**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Ah no problem ;)**

Alfred was pouring himself a bunch of cereal by the time their text based conversation had ended. He poured the milk into the bowl and began shoveling, barely chewing before swallowing. Now he had two awesome reasons to look forward to the twenty second. Christmas Eve, Arthur coming over for winter break and Matthew being discharged. Life couldn't get any better at the moment.

XXX

Matthew smiled, having finally been discharged. Well…he'd be discharged after the doctor stopped talking to him about a few precautions he should take and giving him advice on what he should do to help his healing—after that, he'd be free. He wouldn't be missing this place soon either.

He'd been told that it was safe to walk and jog, but not run excessively. It would strain his lungs and the cold climate outside wouldn't help. Good thing he wasn't a winter jogger, those who were, he just didn't understand. It was frigid—basically a Canadian winter and they were still willing to go out and run around the block. If he remembered correctly, he had seen that Arthur was in crutches. He felt kind of guilty too—he'd gotten the more concerning of injuries in between the two and could function just fine while Arthur had been put in crutches. If his memory wasn't failing him that was.

When he reached the lobby, he glanced left, hoping to find Francis. He wasn't there. He glanced right.

No Francis.

And he even looked over his shoulder in some strange hope that the other was behind him. Again, no Francis. Shoulders slumping and his optimistic expression dissolving, Matthew began his trek to the automatic double doors that allowed access to the hospital. He glanced down at the bag of pills he'd been given to help his healing lungs.

The doors slid open and he took one step out when someone grabbed a hold of his shoulder and spun him around gently. Matthew's eyes were wide open, but he instantly calmed down when he saw that it was the very person he had been searching for in the lobby.

"Francis!" he grinned widely, throwing himself onto the Frenchman in the form of an enthusiastic, Alfred-like hug, though he failed to lift the other and spin him around like Alfred would do to Arthur. He simply settled with burying his face in the crook of the college student's neck.

"Ah _mon amour_, it is good to see you up and healthy," Francis smiled, tilting the others chin up and pressing his lips against Matthew's, which seemingly came out of nowhere according to the latter's mind. His eyes went wide, but soon enough, he ended up kissing the other back lightly, eyelids slipping shut as he did so. Francis tasted of wine and faintly of the sky after precipitation, the latter being the opposite of Arthur's taste unbeknownst to the Canadian. "Do you remember the promise I made a while ago?" Francis then asked when they separated.

"Mm…sorry…but no," Matthew answered, guiltily nuzzling the other's collarbone.

"Ah, do not worry _mon amour_, I didn't expect you to remember with all of the good stuff they had you on," Francis chuckled, Matthew smiling at finally being able to hear the other's voice properly since he always had seemed in a dream-like state during his time in that hospital bed.

The two fell silent briefly. "Keep talking Francis…I like hearing your voice after all that time…" Matthew spoke up. Francis chuckled again and tilted Matthew's chin up to kiss the other once more. Matthew tasted wintery and the faint taste of sweet maple syrup present on his lips. Francis wasn't sure what caused that, but it still was a good taste.

"Mattie! Quit kissing Bonerfoy and let me hug youuu~!" the two separated abruptly and Alfred flew by, picking his Canadian cousin up into a dizzying hug. "Mattie~! I'm _so_ happy you're finally up!" Alfred remarked excitedly, doing his usual twirling in circles.

"Ouch! Al, I just got out of the hospital, I don't want to end back up in it!" Matthew whined as he was spun in circles, closing his eyes tightly in hopes of not getting dizzy. Alfred stopped and apologized, though his grin never faded. "And what did you call Francis?"

"Bonerfoy!" Alfred's voice was loud and proud, catching attention from those hanging in the lobby. Most glances he received were humored, but a few looked irritated at the sudden noisy addition.

"Bonerfoy?" Matthew questioned, his voice almost horrified. Alfred simply laughed at his expression, doubling over whilst holding onto his stomach. "What's so funny Alfred? That is not an appropriate name for Francis!" Matthew then continued with defending.

"No way! It _so_ is! It fits him perfectly!" Alfred chuckled, finally able to recollect himself, sending apologetic looks to those who were glaring irritably at him. "C'mon guys! I'm off to pick up Artie!" Alfred then tugged excitedly at Matthew's sleeve.

"No, no _mon ami_, I'll bring Matthew to your place myself, you go pick up your _amour_," Francis grinned at the slight pinking at Alfred's cheeks, though his grin still remained.

"Fine, see you two later!" Alfred waved the two goodbye and turned to bound to his truck, filled with excitement.

A moment of golden silence passed in the lobby, a few people returning to whatever they were doing neutrally while a few went as far as looking relieved that the loud American had finally left. "So…what was that all about? The Alfred and Arthur and _amour_? You'll have to update me on that…"

"Well, turns out the two have finally gotten things figured out and our dear _Amerique _has kissed _Angleterre_ at this so called Stoplight Dance Friday last week," Francis explained. Matthew took a moment to soak it all in.

"Stoplight…oh that…heh…looks like I missed it," Matthew mumbled, taking on a downcast expression. Francis lightly frowned at Matthew's rained on mood and he tilted the other's chin up so he was peering into violet blue eyes.

"We can turn on the speakers at Alfred's and I can dance with you there," he offered, a light smile tugging at Matthew's lips.

"Yeah…yeah that sounds good.

Alfred slammed on the brakes, having almost passed the apartment building Arthur lived in in his excitement. Cutting the engine and getting out of the vehicle, Alfred slammed the door shut behind him and bound over to the entrance just as Arthur was walking out with a suitcase in tow, having a bit of difficulty with it.

He half tackled the pilot, performing his second spinning hug of the day on a different victim. "Artie! I missed you so much!"

"Alfred put me down!" Arthur was laughing though. "It's only been five days!" he continued, leaning on Alfred once he had been let down to regain his balance.

The American simply grinned and hugged Arthur once more, though this time more gently and the Brit's feet remained on the pavement. "Five days too long…"

"You're so cheesy," Arthur snickered, pushing Alfred off of him. "Now help me with my luggage, I'm not so great with it with these crutches," Arthur continued, motioning to his suitcase with his foot by tapping it. With a 'can do!', Alfred easily picked up the bag and hauled it into the back seat of his truck. He then proceeded with helping Arthur put his crutches in the back seat before rounding the front of the car to get to the driver's seat.

"Hey when are you getting your stitches out by the way? You don't seem bothered by them much anymore…"

"They're coming out in three days."

"Awesome!" Alfred clapped the shaggy haired blond on the shoulder. "Be prepared for my full power!" Alfred continued, a huge grin stretching at his lips. Arthur chuckled lightly at what Alfred had said as he buckled himself in just as Alfred did so and eased his foot on the gas pedal.

"I'll make sure I'm ready for your wrath," Arthur smiled at Alfred and the American had to resist the urge to hug Arthur again for he was currently operating a piece of machinery.

"Hey, Mattie and Bonerfoy," Arthur snickered at that. "Are back at my place right about now," Alfred announced as he turned the radio on.

"Why'd you let them go to your house? They're either running through it like a tornado or they're getting it on on the bed I'll be sleeping on for the next two weeks," Arthur grinned cheekily at Alfred and the American found that he liked this side of Arthur.

When they arrived at Alfred's house, neither of them left the truck none the less unbuckled their seat belts. Arthur didn't exactly feel like stepping out of the truck and Alfred had yet to cut the engine, having put the car in park. Alfred fiddled in the driver's seat before glancing at Arthur.

"Hey Artie?"

"Yes Alfred?"

"Can I kiss you again?" he asked, a shy yet hopeful grin on his lips. Arthur turned red and his gaze fell to his hands which had been clasped together in his lap.

"U-uh it is 'may I'…now 'can I'…and yes you may," Arthur corrected.

"First let's get out of the car," Alfred suggested, finally shutting the engine down and unbuckling, opening the door. Arthur did the same and limped back away from his door, shoving it shut as Alfred opened the passenger door that was behind the side Arthur had rode in. He grabbed his crutches and handed them to Arthur while he himself took the suitcase for Arthur.

They entered Alfred's home, went upstairs and headed to Alfred's room, not exactly wanting to go into the guest room giving that it was oddly quiet. Who knew what Francis and Matthew were up to? When they entered Alfred's room, Alfred dropped the handle to Arthur's suitcase and swept his partner into his arms, their lips connecting passionately. Arthur dropped his crutches and allowed for Alfred to kiss him, though there was a small fight for dominance that Alfred won hands down.

He soon found himself with his back pressed against the mattress, Alfred straddling him. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and pulled the other down to just cuddle with him, mumbling 'no sex' as he did so. The two lay on Alfred's bed, cuddling with each other contently for the next half hour.

Arthur and Alfred both felt that it'd be extremely hard to keep their hands off of each other in a nonsexual way for the rest of winter break.

XXXX

**Win, win, I loved writing the last part ;) Hope you liked it too :) Hm…things seem to be going a little **_**too**_** perfectly no? Lol, yes, I am going to do something horrible to them again, but I'm not going to tell you when or what it's going to be ;) You'll just have to wait for that. So yeah, please review and tell me what you think and peace out my friends :D**


	15. Chapter 15

** Hey guys guess what? **

** What, were you expecting me to say something important? Sorry I don't have anything of importance to tell you…life's just being really boring right now, the only thing mildly interesting is that I'm sick and just got rid of my nephews' (thanks God…). So yeah, don't really have much else to say other than enjoy~**

**XXXX**

When Alfred awoke, he grinned first at the sight of the British pilot sleeping away next to him and second, at the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground. It was almost picture perfect, now all they needed to do was get rid of Francis and turn on the fireplace—but then again, Matthew probably wouldn't be so happy if they kicked the Frenchman out so that was a no-go. Turning onto his side, Alfred hugged Arthur to his chest—the third thing he smiled about was that it was Christmas.

He lightly shook Arthur awake, and as the Brit's eyes opened, Alfred's grin widened. "Merry Christmas Artie~" he greeted before sitting up to grab the glasses that were currently resting on the nightstand. Arthur smiled at Alfred and sat up himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he did so.

"Merry Christmas to you too Alfred," his voice was soft and heavily drowsy. Alfred pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Arthur yawned and swung his legs over the edge of Alfred's large bed, digging his toes into the carpet below. "Francis and Matthew still here?"

"Probably," Alfred replied, swinging his legs over the side of his bed as well, pushing himself to his feet and rounding the foot of the bed to sweep Arthur into a hug. "So…should we check on them?" he then asked, leaning down to kiss the pilot who happily returned the gesture before shaking his head in a 'no' gesture when they separated.

Arthur then smiled up at Alfred. "Let's not. Knowing Francis they might be…lacking a few things of importance," and Alfred snickered at Arthur's words and kissed his quickly once more to get his morning routine started. Alfred ended up stealing Arthur's minty toothpaste and forcing the British pilot to use his sparkling kid's kind. The American had said that it functioned just the same as regular toothpaste—just tasted better. Arthur severely doubted that, but ended up using it anyways.

The two then tumbled down the staircase almost literally when Alfred had decided that it would be funny to slide down the rail and grab Arthur on the way down. When they fell off of the rail at the bottom of the staircase, Alfred then proceeded with starting a tickle fight and soon enough, they found themselves in the kitchen—still alive.

"Eh, sorry for not having a Christmas three…got kinda caught up in what was going on with you and Mattie ending up in the hospital and all…" Alfred then spoke up, watching Arthur prepare some tea Alfred had bought ahead of time. Once the Brit had finished pouring water into the kettle and setting it on the stove, he sat in the seat across from Alfred's.

"Don't worry about it—it's actually less work without one."

"Yeah, but then I don't feel like it's Christmas ya know?" Alfred leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "So…you got me a gift?" he then asked, beaming excitedly at the pilot across the table.

"Actually, yes I did get you a gift," Arthur nodded his head, a small smile stretching his lips. He knew Alfred would love it.

"Can I have it now?" he asked, resting his elbows on the tabletop. Arthur chuckled at the excitement radiating off of the other and shook his head.

"Nope, can't give it to you until tonight," he smiled, Alfred deflating into a childish pout. The American just started grumbling to himself just as Francis and a crabby looking Matthew walked in, Matthew dragging his feet as loudly as possible. Alfred's cousin headed straight for the coffee maker and began making himself a batch of said liquid.

"Merry Christmas _mon amis_," Francis smiled, throwing two small hand size boxes that were wrapped up at the two. The two caught them effortlessly and Alfred hesitated with opening his before tearing the gift wrap off. He then opened the cardboard box and pulled out a German Shepherd figurine with an American flag as it's dog tag. "I didn't know what to get you and just happened to come across this—Matthew insisted I get you something."

"Dude, this is pretty cool, I'd have to admit," Alfred grinned, inspecting the figurine. "I'll put in on my dresser," he then added, setting it down on the table to look at Arthur who was smiling down at a Boeing Stearman model that was just barely bigger than the palm of his hand, it also looked pretty similar to the one Arthur owned—all he needed to do was slap on tiny British flag stickers on the wings much like the ones on his biplane. "I'm assuming you already gave Mattie his gift?"

"Yep," Francis nodded his head with a grin as he seated himself next to Arthur.

Alfred was holding back his own laughter by now. "Is Mattie still a virgin?" Alfred then got coffee spit all over him, but he ended up laughing hysterically despite being drenched by Matthew who had spit his coffee out when Alfred had asked that. Alfred was happy to see Arthur snickering to himself and Francis laughing with him.

"I cannot tell you that_ mon ami_!" Francis grinned and Matthew turned a dark shade of red. The kettle started whistling and Arthur stood to make his tea, still chuckling lightly to himself. Alfred and Francis continued to joke around with each other, Matthew staring down at his coffee, wondering if he should take another sip or just dump the mug's contents on top of the American's head at that moment. "Well—since I saw you and our dear _Angleterre_ sleeping together in your bed on my way to get a drink of water, may I ask if you two didn't get steamy in there?"

Lucky for Francis the pilot had just swallowed his tea before he had said that. Alfred began laughing, but was cut short when something scalding ran down his back.

"Ow! Mattie what the hell?" he jumped out of his seat, now even more soaked with coffee. Arthur decided to follow Matthew's example, figuring that he'd made enough hot water for three cups and poured the scalding water on Francis as well, red faced and telling the other pilot to keep to himself. Arthur now wished that Alfred didn't like Francis like back when he and Francis were sort of an item.

After a bit of loud complaining, a few ice packs and Arthur and Matthew refilling their cups with their drinks, the four were sitting at the table, talking civilly.

"Oww…Mattie I think you gave me a burn…" Alfred whined, pressing the ice pack onto his back once more. Matthew simply grunted and took a sip of his coffee, still looking overly peeved. Francis had an ice pack pressed against the back of his neck and was smart enough not to complain—Matthew looked like he was just about ready to grab something and whack them upside the heads with it. "…Fine…'m sorry…"

"Guess I should give you your gifts before you do something that'll make me burn them…" Matthew grumbled, standing up, the chair scraping against the floor below. Arthur got up as well, muttering something similar to it, but a few words altered here and there. Alfred and Francis watched them off, Alfred pouting because Matthew and Francis got their gifts from Arthur before him, before looking at each other when the two disappeared up the staircase.

The silence was awkward and Alfred couldn't stand it. "Mattie's kinda a morning crank isn't he?" Alfred grinned sheepishly at the wavy haired blond seated across the table from him.

"Ah yes…but the rest of the day, he's a wonderful kid," Francis grinned, folding his arms across his chest and leaning his chair back onto its two back legs, staring up at the ceiling. "Almost innocent if I must be specific…nice."

Alfred huffed. "Yeah, well if you do something like—like—_really _bad to him, I'll have to rip your head off and spit down your neck…" Francis just wove his threat off as if dispersing smoke, telling the American not to worry about him and that he knew better. Alfred doubted the latter, but didn't voice it. "Well, since you're talking about Mattie guess I should say something about Artie…" Alfred sighed, resting his elbows on the table. "He can be super difficult if he wants to be," he smiled.

"Ah yes, yes," Francis chuckled. "I agree with you there."

The two that were being talked about returned. "Oh, Al, where's your dad? I know he really likes to read and found this really good mystery novel he might like…" Matthew asked, having seemingly calmed down.

"At work."

"At work?" Arthur asked as he handed Francis his wrapped up gift. "That's a shame."

"Yeah, well," Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "Police stuff kinda works that way…" he couldn't hide his disappointment, so he filtered in as much carelessness as possible.

Francis unwrapped the paper and opened the box to find a one hundred dollar bill in it along with a piece of stationery paper that had been folded up three times over. Grinning, he extracted the paper and unfolded it to find a tiny picture of the two of them during middle school years. He then read what was written on the paper in Arthur's fancy handwriting.

_**One hundred dollars. Go buy yourself lots of wine **_(_as long as you share_ has been crossed out).

_**Either that or spend it on Matthew if he's important to you. **_

_** Oh, and thanks for paying for my plane all these years.**_

_** Merry Christmas you French Frog**_

_** Arthur Kirkland**_

A softer smile touched his lips and he pulled out a tiny charm with a frog on it that had been buried under the tissue paper. He remembered back in middle school how Arthur would always buy him a frog charm for Christmas, it being different each year. This one was no exception either and it was the first green one he'd received. Arthur probably assumed that he threw these away, but Francis would always stash them in a small jewelry box hidden in the closet in his dorm room.

Matthew was then handed his gift from Arthur and he found it slightly heavy for its small size. Curious, he opened it and lifted the flap to the box and a wide grin spread on his face. There in the box lay a black hockey puck with names of most of the player for the Minnesota's hockey team _The Wilds_, written in silver Sharpie marker all over it.

"Whoa…Arthur how did you get this?"

"Hm? Oh, dad drug me off to a hockey game not too long ago and a few players just happened to be signing things. I'm not sure what compelled him, but one of the guys on the team got almost the whole team to sign that puck—almost the whole team because they ran out of room as you can see," Arthur answered with a smile. "And knowing that you were a Wilds fanatic according to Alfred, I decided to give it to you."

"Thanks," Matthew smiled down at the puck, inspecting the signatures. The guy probably did that because Arthur was handicapped and he felt really generous that day, but Matthew didn't voice that. "Really…thanks."

"It's no problem Matthew, should probably be thanking my father for dragging me to it in the first place," he chuckled, waving it off with a hand. "So Francis, what did Arthur give you?"

"Ah, the same thing I've been getting ever since I met him," Francis grinned, holding up the frog charm. Alfred stared snickering to himself. "And one hundred dollars to buy one hundred dollars' worth of wine…or to spend on you _Matthieu _from what Arthur wrote in this note," Francis continued, as he folded the stationery paper up and placed everything back in the small box. "So Alfred, what did Arthur give you?"

"He won't let me have it until tonight…" Alfred huffed, crossing his arms and pouting childishly. Francis grinned and rolled his eyes. Francis knew what Arthur was going to give Alfred tonight and it wasn't sex. He knew Alfred would love it too. Said American seemed to pick up on Francis's knowing look too. "Dude, what is it? You look like you know, you gotta tell me please! I'm like, dying from the suspense here!" Alfred whined, bumping his forehead against the table and resting it there.

"Don't damage your glasses…"

"No, I can't tell you because it won't be a surprise then," Francis ticked a finger back and forth, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth a few times.

Matthew then handed his gifts for Arthur and Alfred, having to nudge Alfred with the box on the head to notify the other that he was still receiving. With a thanks, Alfred enthusiastically opened the paper—Matthew was an awesome gift chooser. He grinned at the coffee mug with the British flag printed around it, his name in fancy letters below it. _ALFRED F. JONES_

He looked over at Arthur who had gotten a simple round teacup with the American flag printed on it, his name in fancy letter below it as well. "I get what you're doing here," Alfred smiled at Matthew who smiled back and nodded his head.

"Yeah…thought I'd get something that would remind you two of each other and it kind of also shows how opposite you two can be," Matthew started. "They're custom as you can see," he then added.

The day went on, full of joking around and mostly watching movies and playing video games. Alfred had managed to get Francis and Arthur to play with him and Matthew. It was Alfred and Arthur against Matthew and Francis in a fighting game and the two were pretty evenly matched with how much of a closet video game junkie Matthew was.

Alfred still mulled over the gift he'd be receiving from Arthur in a few hours. He had no idea what it was going to be and was it was starting to kill him. Arthur was pretty good at hiding things too apparently—for he couldn't find it when it drove him crazy and he had attempted to find it on his own, but to no avail of course.

They were on their fifth movie by the time the sun started to set. Alfred started to wonder if Arthur had forgotten, but refrained from bringing it back up, for he would sound impatient and he wanted to prove that he could be patient to Matthew since the other told him that right after breakfast.

Glancing out the window once more, Alfred was about to ask Francis once more what the gift was when Arthur stood up and put his jacket on. A bit surprised, Alfred followed when the other seemed to be waiting for him.

"Where are we going?" Alfred asked as they stepped into Alfred's truck.

"Give me your keys," Arthur replied, his hand extended out, waiting for Alfred to drop said object in his open palm. A bit confused, Alfred took his keys out from his pocket and dropped them in Arthur's hand. The British pilot nodded and stepped into the driver's seat, Alfred seating himself in the passenger's seat. "Now put this on," he then handed Alfred a blindfold.

Alfred grinned before tying it over his eyes. "Is this one of those lights thing where you bring your love there, blindfolded and when you tell them to take it off there'll be a whole bunch of lit up signs with things like 'I love you' on 'em? Dude! That'd be totally cool!"

Alfred just talked and talked on their way to Arthur's destination and he seriously considered turning around and heading back to Alfred's house with how irritating the American was getting with his rambling. When they arrived, Arthur killed the engine and strictly demanded for Alfred to not take the blindfold off as he left the truck. Alfred sat in his seat, on the verge of bouncing in excitement when Arthur opened the passenger door and helped the American out of the vehicle.

He listened to his surroundings, hearing that it was populated, but not overly so, a car passing every now and then giving that it was Christmas. "We're here…you can take it off," Arthur announced when the two stopped. Alfred took off the blindfold and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the slight amount of tiny bright lights littering the ground. Blinking a few times, a Boeing Stearman was then registered in his brain. It took a little longer to figure out what this meant too. So he glanced at Arthur to see those goggles resting atop his head and it clicked.

"…Arthur…are you—you taking me for a ride?" he asked, a huge grin spreading at his face. Arthur nodded his head, squeezing Alfred's hand in his own before the American swept the pilot into a hug, spinning him in wild circles. "Oh my god Artie! I thought I'd _never _get one outta ya! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god thank you~!"

"Ah, let me down Alfred!" Arthur laughed, clinging to Alfred so the momentum wouldn't catapult him. "Now come, in the back seat Al—" he was silenced by a kiss. It was a brief one too before Alfred bound over to Arthur's plane, jumping into the back cockpit with ease, Arthur getting into the front after handing Alfred something that looked like a headset with a microphone on it. He figured that it was the radio pilots used.

With a smile, Arthur looked over his shoulder as he revved up the plane, the propeller on the front spinning to life. "_You are clear Angleterre_," Arthur then looked up at the short radio tower where Francis was standing in, the headphones and microphone currently on.

"Whatever you say frog," Arthur replied with a grin. It took Alfred a moment to figure out who Arthur was talking to. They always needed directions before take-off, Alfred had to remind himself. Arthur then turned to grin over his shoulder at Alfred once more. "You ready?"

"Hell yeah!" he pumped a fist in the air as the plane eased forward smoothly. The sound of the engine to Arthur's plane paired with said Brit talking over the radio with Francis was just perfect. Paired with the crisp air, Alfred was thankful that he had put on a scarf on his way out.

"Oh, and you might need these," Alfred barely caught the pair of goggles that had been tossed over to him. Alfred hastily strapped them to the top of his head and then gave Arthur a thumbs up, though the Brit couldn't see him since his eyes were trained on the runway in front of them. The wind picked up and they were soon leaving the ground, Alfred peeking over the edge to watch the land below them grow smaller. He then looked up at the back of Arthur's head.

"_Quit staring ahead and look below you," _came Arthur's voice on the radio. How the Brit knew he was looking ahead Alfred didn't know, but when he looked down, his grinned and whooped. The Christmas lights littered all over the neighborhoods now looked even better from above. He then looked ahead and off in the distance, he could see Minneapolis, the lights of the skyscrapers rather hard to miss.

Alfred had to tinker with the radio a bit before he actually figured out how to radio Arthur. "Artie this is so cool!" he resisted the urge to say 'over'.

"_Hang on_," was his reply and Alfred was about to ask what Arthur meant when the plane abruptly went upside down, Alfred letting out a rather unmanly screech. When they were upright once more, Alfred heart beating a mile a minute, he could see the other's shoulders moving up and down, a sign of him laughing at Alfred. "_You okay Al? That's exactly what Francis did when I did that to him one day a few years back_."

"Dude, let's do that again!" Alfred replied, the fear dissolving only to be replaced with adrenaline and excitement. This was phenomenal, if only it were warmer.

"_Whatever you say_," and they corkscrewed once more, Alfred laughing in pure ecstasy this time. The feeling of being pulled by gravity when upside down was one Alfred would never forget. He soon knew why Arthur was always so air happy after flights now too.

After a few simple aerobatic tricks, Arthur refusing to do some of the more difficult ones, they were soon on a straight, smooth course. The sound of the plane without any disturbances was calming and Alfred smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head back before opening his eyes to look up at the stars. No wonder Arthur wanted to do this at night—it was beautiful up here and the moon was huge and had a majestic yellow glow. Lucky them it seems.

More time had passed than Alfred had originally thought, because when Arthur had announced that they had to land pretty soon, he became a bit upset. It was great up here and he could spend his whole life flying if possible.

He waved excitedly at Matthew who was standing a safe distance from the runway. He spotted Francis in the radio tower, mock saluting the two with a toothy grin stuck to his face. They pulled into the hangar and Alfred jumped off, handing the radio equipment to Francis who had left the tower and rejoined them.

"Holy shit guys! That was like, like—_amazing_ ass kicking, cool, cool—gwah!" Alfred swept Arthur into a hug when the pilot stepped out and spun him in circles once more. "Aww Artie you're so amazing~!" he then proceeded with kissing the pilot multiple times on the lips.

"Now," kiss. "Now Alfred," kiss. "Let's go home!" Arthur snickered, turning his head so that Alfred ended up kissing his cheek. The American pouted before grabbing Arthur around the waist and tossing him over the shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes. "Al!" his laughed as Alfred began running for his truck.

"Gimme my keys Artie," Alfred grinned, sticking a hand in Arthur's pocket and began searching for the keys to his truck.

"Stop wiggling your fingers so much, that tickles!" Arthur laughed, attempting to swat Alfred's hand away. Alfred dropped Arthur on the hood of his truck and kissed him deeply, lacing one of his hands with one of Arthur's, the other hand massaging the back of Arthur's head lightly. Arthur's eyes slipped shut when Alfred's lips had connected with his and he soon was pressing back into the kiss.

They separated much slower than they had connected and Alfred smiled down at Arthur who returned the gesture. "Thanks so much for the plane ride Artie," he then thanked. "Just…thanks," he continued, unable to find any more words to show how thankful he was.

"You're welcome Alfred," Arthur smiled up at Alfred and leaned up to kiss him quickly once more before sliding off of the hood, Alfred backing up as he did so and headed over to the passenger's seat. Alfred jumped into the driver's seat and started up his truck, checking the time. It was currently ten at night.

**[Alfred]**

**so maty, wana wach a movie when we get hom?**

**[Mattie]**

**Sure :)**

"We're gonna watch a movie when we get home," Alfred announced, turning to smile at Arthur as he backed out of the place Arthur had parked Alfred's truck. Arthur nodded his head and Alfred shifted the car into drive before easing on the brakes, allowing Matthew's car to pass them before continuing himself.

When they got back, they turned on the fireplace and made themselves hot chocolate before Matthew popped in a romantic comedy into the DVD player for them.

Best Christmas ever.

XXXX

**Lol, now I can't wait for Christmas :D I'm so excited for Christmas and New Year's for some reason :P Yay, I really, really love aerial photos of city lights at night—it's just, I love it despite how much pollution it gives off…that's the sad part to it :( Well, this one was super fun to write :D Please review, I love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**


	16. Chapter 16

** Nothing to say, enjoy ;)**

**XXXX**

The New Year's party Alfred was throwing was approaching quickly, so that called for some grocery shopping—or in Arthur's case, sugar shopping. They were currently picking out anything that had large amounts of sugar in it, courtesy of Alfred. Arthur hadn't managed one healthy thing in the cart yet, except for those six boxes of strawberries. Strawberries were the only fruit Alfred approved of other than oranges.

"Man, I mean like, it's a real shame the big time fireworks are illegal here you know? Off in Wisconsin, they're shooting off huge ones I bet! Probably right on the border to mock us…" Alfred ranted as he grabbed three boxes of cookies, tossing them almost carelessly into the cart as he talked about fireworks and how they should legalize them in Minnesota. "Just uncool man."

"Whatever you say, I'm completely fine with that," Arthur remarked as he picked up one of the boxes, checking the Nutrition Facts box printed on a sticker. "Al, that's a lot of sugar," he continued with setting the box on top of another as he said that. The other completely ignored him and continued ranting.

Alfred was about to turn and ask for Arthur's opinion, having not heard it the first time when his phone began buzzing in his pocket. Pulling it out, he smiled to see that it was Matthew before frowning at what was typed.

**[Mattie]**

**Hiya Alfredo! :D There's a sexy French guy in your house n he gave me a drink 3**

"The hell? Everyone's getting drunk on me!" Alfred wailed, bringing both hands to the top of his head. Arthur could only cock an eyebrow at the American before asking him what was going on. "Dude! Bonerfoy got Mattie drunk!" he then answered hysterically.

"That would've happened sooner or later whether you want to admit that or not…" Arthur sighed, pushing the cart along as Alfred continued down the aisle, stressing to himself whilst taking whatever sugary treat he could get his hands on.

**[Alfred]**

**maty, i advis u go 2 slep n not lisen 2 bonerfoy D:**

**[Mattie]**

**Oh yeah, Bonerfoy's a wonderful nickname for him ;)**

**[Alfred]**

**maty, watevr ur abowt 2 do wit Bonerfoy DONT DO IT**

Alfred's face was beet red now, eyebrow twitching as his thumbs shakily jabbed at the buttons. "Artie! Artie, Artie! Mattie and Bonerfoy are getting it on in my house!" Alfred wailed, his voice a slight whine. Arthur immediately facepalmed in order to hide most of his embarrassed blush when the people around them turned to glance at the two in confusion or amusement.

**[Mattie]**

**Why not? :( Boring Ol' Mattie will be like, interesting now. Did it before Alfredo ;)**

**[Alfred]**

**i dont like that nam maty n ples dont do it!**

**[Mattie]**

**Sorry if we get your bed sheets dirty ;)**

**[Alfred] **

**MATY DONT!**

Arthur groaned and hid his face in his arms which were folded on the handle to the cart as Alfred chanted 'respond! Respond!' over and over, staring frantically down at his phone, gripping it tightly. People were still giving them strange looks and he felt compelled to apologize to them for his choice in friends and boyfriends.

He ended up having to smack Alfred from behind in the back of his head, knocking his glasses off, though successfully silencing him. "Oww…wha'ddya do that for?" Alfred then asked in a whine, rubbing the back of his head as he bent over to pick up his glasses. Arthur then proceeded with giving him a look that clearly read 'are you serious?' as the American shoved his glasses onto his face. Unfortunately, Alfred proceeded with weeping about his bed sheets.

Arthur grumbled under his breath about Alfred being a ridiculous embarrassment and shoved the cart past the American who followed. Soon enough, Alfred calmed down and they resumed their shopping for groceries. Alfred was currently grabbing as many two liter pop bottles as possible—mostly Coca-Cola and Pepsi. "Oh! And Artie, will you come with me to Radio Shack and buy like, a huge stereo set?"

"Why not Best Buy?"

"Sure that's fine too, hey do you have an iPod? I never really see you with one...hell, I don't even think I've seen you anywhere near something that relates to music other than the Stoplight Dance," Alfred then brought up, rubbing his chin.

"Yes, in fact I do, I just don't use it often why?" Arthur answered, watching as Alfred dumped four cupcake making kits into the cart, likely for him and Matthew to make. The American grinned at Arthur when he heard that.

"Dude really? Ha, ha, why don't we go pick it up and listen to some of your music? I kinda need a lot if I'm gonna be entertaining the masses," Alfred chimed, jogging on ahead to pick up a different flavor of cupcakes to add to the cart that was becoming heavy to push. "Is it a touch? Or like—the classic?" he then asked, pulling Arthur closer into a one armed hug.

"Alfred, we're in public," Arthur grumbled, a small blush surfacing as he pushed himself away from the bespectacled young man that was his boyfriend. Alfred pouted, but followed Arthur, resuming with his talk about the party. "Does your dad even know about all of this?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, he's totally cool with it," Alfred grinned as he answered, folding his arms behind his back. "Mom's gonna be—shit," he then pressed a palm to his forehead in a stressed way.

"What now?"

"Ha…forgot to tell mom 'bout ya," he then let his arm fall to his side and grinned sheepishly at Arthur. "Uh, do you mind? She's a real nice lady and I think you'll like her when you meet her," Alfred continued. Arthur remained silent and wondered what his mother looked like—they didn't even have a picture of her hung up or set anywhere in his house and Arthur had never really thought about it.

"No, I don't," he answered almost blandly.

"What's wrong? Oh—! If it's about your mom again, I swear I didn't mean it! I-I just brought up that she's coming over for the party and-and I'm sorry!" the American then began wailing almost helplessly.

"Well _now_ you brought it up…" Arthur muttered, his body slumping slightly at the thought of his mother. Alfred could just see the dark storm cloud over his boyfriends head and began to panic some more, apologizing endlessly whilst earning themselves attention. One gloomy Brit and one panicking American with tons of sugary foods in their cart kind of baffled the onlookers.

Antonio and Lovino then walked past them, the Spaniard greeting the two obliviously. "Hiya Arthur! American guy that I can't remember his name! How're ya doin'?" he smiled, stopping next to the two to talk.

Arthur immediately snapped out of his gloomy state when he heard Antonio, unlike Alfred who continued to wallow in guilt on his knees. "Ah, hello Antonio."

"I'm sorry!"

"What're you up to lately? I haven't really seen you at scho—Alfred calm down!" Arthur started, but was then forced to kick the other in the side to get him to stop. He sighed and apologized before continuing. "I haven't seen you a school lately."

"Ah that…" Antonio itched at the back of his head, glancing at the food products to the right of Arthur. "Family issues, kinda have to miss school every now and then…"

"Come on Antonio, I don't want to hear your stupid family problems anymore!" Lovino complained, tugging at Antonio's sleeve roughly in an attempt to get the Spanish young man to continue their shopping. He was ignored unfortunately.

"It must be a pain to catch up on homework and the like. Oh, have you been excusing your absences? It's considered skipping if you don't…"

"Kinda…"

"Come on!" Lovino shoved Antonio past Arthur. The Spaniard waved goodbye to the Brit sheepishly, the pilot returning the gesture before glancing down at Alfred with an unimpressed look. Alfred simply grinned up sheepishly at his boyfriend before standing up, brushing his rear off.

"Sorry…"

"Just keep walking," Arthur sighed and the two resumed their shopping trip once more.

Alfred stopped when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket once more. Extracting it, he hoped that it was Matthew but then again, he kind of hoped that it wasn't Matthew. Drunk Mattie kind of scared him.

**[Mattie]**

**Hey Alfredo, get some maple syrup while you're still shopping.**

**[Mattie]**

**And some flour!**

**[Mattie]**

**Oh, don't forget some treats for Liberty :)**

**[Alfred]**

**did you and bonerfoy get my bed shets drty?**

**[Mattie]**

**What? Noo, sexy French guy just told me to mess with ya ;)**

Alfred stopped walking, staring down at the screen. Arthur stopped with a 'what now?' turning to look at the bespectacled American behind him. Alfred then proceeded with throwing the mobile into the cart rather harshly, grumbling to himself as he continued walking. Arthur decided not to question further.

Once they paid for the groceries, the cashier giving them a strange look, the two blonds headed off to a nearest Best Buy to get the biggest and loudest stereo system Alfred could find.

"Dude, check these out!" Alfred grinned, pressing the power button to the stereo system that was on display only to have loud bass blast in his face. He turned down the volume, his glasses having gone crooked with how violently he had jumped. Pressing his index finger to the wire that connected the two spectacles, Alfred's grin widened. "That was awesome!"

"Was not," Arthur grumbled, the earlier sound vibrations having his ears ringing and his body tingling. Alfred checked the price to the machine and grinned.

"Hah, I can totally afford that! Oh, and we should have karaoke too! Kiku's gotta karaoke machine, I could totally borrow that from him to save some money," Alfred piped, jabbing an index finger into the sign that told its price. Arthur glanced at it and almost chocked on his own saliva.

"You have one thousand dollars to spare?" he almost wailed, making sure to keep his voice down.

"Duh, I'm rich dude—you just don't know it," Alfred winked, pulling Arthur into a one armed hug again. Arthur pushed away with a faint blush, muttering about being in public, again. Talk about Déjà vu. "Now c'mon, we gotta get this, I already have a stereo at home, but it's weak," Alfred continued, pulling the large box out from under the display. Jeez, this guy was strong. "Hey, we can be the popular kids that throw the parties like in the movies! Just we won't be jerks."

"Oh put a sock in it Alfred," the Brit muttered.

"Let's go to GameStop next! There's a few games I really want that just came out," Alfred piped as he set the enormous box at the checkout, the clerk sending him an impressed look before ringing the item with the scanner. Arthur had to slap a hand over his mouth when the American extracted not a Credit Card from his wallet, but thirteen one hundred dollar bills. Their cashier seemed to want to do the same thing. How the hell did Alfred walk around with all of that money and _not_ get mugged? Oh yeah, he didn't tell people. "C'mon, off to GameStop!"

So Arthur found himself standing in the middle of a GameStop as Alfred bought four games. He felt extremely poor now that he knew Alfred carried about fifty one hundred dollar bills around with him while he had to have Francis (Francis!) pay for his plane which was much less giving how old it was.

"You're dating someone who might as well be living in the slums…" Arthur grumbled, staring unenthusiastically out the windshield at the road ahead of them as Alfred drove them to a McDonald's for lunch.

Alfred looked at him in confusion before resting a hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Nah, I don't think so—isn't that plane a lot of money?"

"No…and Francis pays for it," Arthur answered, his voice still an unenthusiastic grumble. Alfred chuckled nervously and returned his attention to his driving, making sure he didn't slide his truck which was, mind you, probably the only thing other than Alfred's house that didn't make it seem like he was rich. "How in bloody hell to you even get ahold of this kind of money?"

"Mom."

"Urgh…" he slumped over and rested his head against the dashboard. "He's not even employed and he's rich…" Arthur muttered under his breath, Alfred hearing it and tightening his grip on the wheel nervously.

The two returned to Alfred's house, Arthur visibly brooding and Alfred looking a bit guilty along with nervous. Francis sent them a confused look before standing up to help Arthur with getting the groceries inside while Alfred brought in the huge stereo along with his video games in. Looking to their left, they spotted Matthew sprawled out on the couch in the living room, an empty wine bottle resting on his shirtless chest, a hand gripping the neck of the bottle tightly.

As Francis set two bags on the table, he peeked inside to be met with almost literally pure sugar. "Typical American."

"What was that?" Alfred called from his spot next to the television as he placed the new games on the table the television sat on.

"Nothing of great importance," Francis replied, Alfred walking into the kitchen to help Arthur and Francis put the stuff away until the party three days from then. "Jeez Alfred, did you bargain with the stores or something?" he then asked as he continued pulling out boxes and containers, impressed at how much Alfred had managed to bring home.

"He's rich in case you didn't know," Arthur grumbled from his spot at the kitchen table. France's eyebrows rose and he glanced at Alfred in surprise.

"Eh heh, it's nothing to make such a big deal out of, honest…"

Francis had something else in mind. "You can pay for Arthur's plane from now on—I'm kind of running thin on money lately," Francis clapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder, a wide, enthusiastic grin stretching at his lips. Alfred blinked a few times, not knowing what to make of this. He was either supposed to be completely fine with it or get a bit angry at taking advantage at his easy access to money.

Uh, I don't know what to say about that. I know I should either be fine with that or angry," Alfred mumbled, pulling boxes and containers out of the bags to put in the cupboards.

Matthew then swayed into the kitchen, still shirtless and swung an arm around Alfred's shoulders, his inebriation making it seem like he threw his weight onto Alfred who stumbled to the side, not expecting for his cousin to suddenly walk in, he had originally though that Matthew was asleep on the couch. "Ey Alfredo, ai got enough monay to get'chya a Harley—why not? I got nothin' to spend it on…"

"Even his cousin is rich…" Arthur mumbled, defeat evident in his voice.

"No matter how awesome that would be, no thanks," Alfred swung an arm around Matthew's shoulders. He then glanced over at Francis with a questioning expression on his face. "What compelled you to give him so much wine?" Francis simply shrugged his shoulders with a stupid grin on his face. "C'mon Mattie, let's go up to my room—you gotta sleep this off, I don't wanna deal with you," his voice disappeared as he and his Canadian cousin stepped up the staircase.

"I feel like a street urchin around those two now," Arthur muttered to Francis who gave him his attention, his head propped up in his hand, his elbow resting on the tabletop.

"And what makes you say that?"

"Alfred probably spent fifteen hundred today—and still has money in his wallet, one hundred dollar bills Francis," Arthur answered, raking his hand through his blond hair. "It just—I don't know, it makes me stressed for some reason."

"If you're thinking that the money gap in between the two of you will make Alfred think differently of you, you're definitely wrong," Francis reassured, leaning down onto the table, his cheek resting against the tabletop. Arthur looked up from his hands, a bit shocked at how stern Francis sounded. "He's too nice of a guy to do something like that—trust me."

"Yeah, I guess that is my problem…" the pilot sighed. "You want to go fly right now? The stress is getting to me," Arthur asked, rubbing his forehead. He stood up and started for the front door, the Crystal Airport not being too far from Alfred's home. "Just tell Alfred that I'll be at the airport if he needs me."

"Can do _mon ami_, make sure you clear your head too," Francis advised, tapping his head when he voiced the latter. "It'll ruin you before you know it."

Arthur stood at the front door for a long moment, a hand resting on the handle as he thought over Francis's words. He then turned and smiled genuinely. "Thanks," he started before opening the door and speaking up again. "Don't get Matthew drunk again while we're gone though, Alfred was quite the embarrassment in the grocery store."

"I cannot guarantee that one _Angleterre_," the wavy haired French young man chuckled, brushing said locks out of his face before rubbing the stubble on his chin. "But I'll write a note down," he winked. Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped out, closing the door.

After a bit of silence, Francis grinned to himself. "He forgot his coat…"

"Who forgot his coat?" Alfred asked as he stepped down the staircase, glasses askew from wrestling Matthew into bed who had acted like a child.

"Ah, Arthur went to the airport, he wanted me to tell you that. I'm just talking to myself," Francis waved a hand in the air lazily before pointing at the navy green coat on the coat hanger. "He forgot his coat, you should go get it to him before he gets hypothermia, probably doesn't even know he's missing it."

"Got it," Alfred grabbed the piece of winter gear and went out the door, starting up his truck and driving off, finding Arthur not too far from the airport. "Hey Artie!" he called, slapping a smile onto his features as he slowed the vehicle down to the speed Arthur was walking at. The pilot glanced up at him and smiled.

"Forgot my coat."

"Yeah, Francis told me and I brought it to ya," Alfred winked, reaching out to hand the coat to Arthur who took it gratefully, throwing it over himself. "Forgot these too," Alfred continued, reaching over to grab Arthur's goggles and handing them to the blond.

"You're such a generous guy," Arthur smiled, putting on the goggles and letting them snap onto his forehead. Alfred grinned and leaned out the window, the two having stopped a few seconds ago. He took Arthur's chin in his hand and kissed the Brit briefly.

"I'm gonna put the rest of the groceries in the cupboards back home and then I'll come back okay?" Alfred announced and earned a nod from Arthur. He turned the truck around, wondering if he just made an illegal U-turn before heading home. He always mixed up where U-turns were okay with where they weren't.

XXXX

**Yay, I liked this chapter :D Yes, I made Al rich ;) I know right? Poor Artie feels overwhelmed with their money gap or whatever you like to call it. Hope you liked it :) Please review, I love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**


	17. Chapter 17

** Just went Christmas shopping with my mom and got these pretty trippy headphones that cost a fortune…Jeez, I feel expensive—I'm going to be getting pilot lessons for my birthday and that's a lot of money probably too.**

** Well, buckle in guys, this chapter's gonna be bumpy and pretty dramatic. So…enjoy. Well, I can't exactly say enjoy so how 'bout read on :D**

**XXXX**

Alfred and Arthur stepped out of Alfred's truck, now at the entrance to their school. Winter break was officially over and Alfred found himself wishing that it still was said brake. He didn't exactly like the idea of going back to school and now here he was, standing outside of the building that caused him boredom.

"So…do ya still need me to walk ya to your classes?" Alfred asked with a grin, Arthur walking alongside him. With the way Arthur was walking, Alfred could've been fooled into assuming that Arthur had never landed himself in a pair of crutches. "And how's your ankle?"

"I'm fine Alfred, how many times do I have to tell you that?" Arthur smiled up at Alfred, his hands stuffed into his pockets as Alfred opened the door with him, doing an unnecessary hand maneuver gesturing for Arthur to go through. "And no you don't have to walk me to class anymore," he continued, though hesitantly.

"Aww, you're no fun Artie," the American whined as he bound up to Arthur to catch up. "I'm gonna walk you anyways," he continued, hooking his arm around Arthur's. They continued on in silence, cherishing each other's company until academics forced them apart. They arrived at Arthur's first period class and Alfred kissed Arthur on the lips quickly before turning away and walking off to his first period class, looking over his shoulder to grin at the blushing pilot at the door to his classroom. "I'll see you at lunch!"

"Alfred, don't do that in public next time!" Arthur called back, earning a few looks from other students passing by.

Alfred walked over to the table he and Arthur always sat at during lunch, his mood having gone sour two periods ago. Plopping himself down in the seat across from the British pilot who also looked as foul feeling as he did. "Hey."

"Hello," Arthur returned the halfhearted greeting just as unenthusiastically. "You don't look so happy."

"Neither do you."

"So what's up?" Arthur asked, resting his head on his fist in a bored way, picking at his food with the plastic fork in his left hand before eating it. Alfred shifted in his seat with a loud exhale, glancing down at his food.

"Someone in the bathroom wrote ALFRED FAGOT JONES on one of the stalls…my middle name isn't fagot!" Alfred suddenly barked, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's Franklin…" he continued, his anger having simmered immediately.

Arthur hummed. "Yeah, I saw that."

"What's up with you then?"

"Oh, I just have a few inappropriate things drawn and written on my locker. Had a few things drawn on my desks too and my teachers think it was me who did all of that—the bloody gits…" Arthur raked a hand through his hair. "Shouldn't have taken your offer…" he muttered, the statement meant to go unheard on Alfred's half, but the American heard him anyways.

"…Sorry…" he apologized before continuing. "It's probably the football players…American football. There were a lot of homophobic guys in it from what I've heard," Alfred continued, shifting in his seat once more.

"Oh heey~" the two looked up to see three bulky juniors approaching them. "It's the fagots," Alfred looked over to Arthur who visibly twitched at the word. "So," the guy continued, placing a hand on the edge of the table, leaning most of his weight on it. "Wha'ddya do winter break ya little whores?" he continued, a grin slapped onto his face, though there was a bit of an irritated touch to it.

"We didn't do anything to you, so leave us alone," Alfred demanded flatly, not a smile or a frown on his face. One could even say his expression looked bored, though his eyebrows were creased in the slightest.

"What? C'mon, we just wanna talk with you."

"You have no good reason to be bothering us," Alfred didn't want to hear anything these guys had to say. The guy he was currently talking to frowned and furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"Come on, let your whore speak for him—" Arthur had jumped up and socked the guy in the face, square on his nose. If Alfred didn't know better, he would've cheered his boyfriend on, but he remained silent—he still let a confident 'oh yea he just did that' smile on his face though.

Arthur tugged the junior closer to him by the collar of his neck. "Don't call me that ever again," his voice was an angry snarl and the guy grinned back at him. He then swiftly punched Arthur in the abdomen before wrestling him to the ground. The football player clearly had the upper hand since he had two other buddies accompanying him so Alfred decided to kick into hero mode, prying the guy off of Arthur and punching him in the nose—making sure that it would be broken multiple times over.

Sooner or later the five were fighting, a crowd having gathered, but nobody doing anything to stop it. Matthew had wondered what was going on and shoved his way through the crowd, getting a few irritated looks as he did so. "Alfred what the hell?" he then was forced to yell when he spotted his cousin duking it out with three football players, Arthur being his brawling partner.

Matthew pried Alfred off of one of the guys who was obviously unconscious and shook his cousin violently. "What's gotten into you?" he was forced to yell over the crowd.

"Can't talk Mattie, I got a few asses to whoop!" he barked, his voice angry and impatient as he tore away from Matthew. Matthew tried to go back after Alfred, but was shoved away by one of the offenders, telling him to 'back off, he has nothing to do with these two fagots'. "Fagots?" he questioned, his voice high pitched with surprise and anger. "What gives you the right to call them _that?_" he asked, balling his hands into fists. "For all I care, you're the one being a fagot he—!" he heard a few people gasp when the junior punched him in the jaw, sending him backwards and onto his rear.

The fight escalated into football players versus hockey players, Matthew's teammates having seen him in the midst of the chaos, same going with the opposing sports players. Alfred had managed to grab Arthur and sneak off into the hallway and outside of the cafeteria just before police arrived, guns and all.

Alfred panted as he checked Arthur, who was glaring up at him, for anything serious that called for immediate attention. "That wasn't the best thing to do…"

"I'm tired of all of this bullying and it's only the first day," Arthur grunted, his answer slightly off topic as he batted Alfred's hand away from his eyelid. "Leave me alone—why'd you have to jump in?"

Alfred made a noise of amused shock. "You were clearly outnumbered there!" he answered, seating himself against the wall, next to Arthur. The two sat in silence, catching their breaths and letting the adrenaline die down before Alfred spoke up once more. "Man, I really hope Mattie doesn't get arrested."

"Eight hours of detention—that isn't so bad," Arthur sighed to himself as he and Alfred walked into the building. "It's only eight days after school for one hour," he continued. "I'm just glad we didn't get arrested like most of those that fought."

"I'm just glad Mattie didn't end up there, I'd like—totally have to bail him out if he did," Alfred chuckled almost breathlessly. Alfred could easily bail Matthew out, Arthur knew that. "Hey, since we both have eight hours, why don't I accompany you? It'll be more interesting~"

"Shut it, you sound like Francis," Arthur smiled, pushing Alfred away from him lightly for the American had leant closer to him when he said that. Alfred chuckled and clapped Arthur on the shoulder before heading for his first period. Arthur noted that Alfred hadn't walked him to his first period, but brushed it aside, reassuring himself that they were just stressed from yesterday's events.

During lunch though, he found himself sitting alone at his scarcely populated lunch table, staring at the food on his tray in front of him, finding it highly unappealing at the current moment. It was almost halfway through lunch and he had spotted Alfred over with Matthew and two of his hockey buddies since the rest had landed with a month long suspension along with two days in jail.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, having completely forgotten about the device. He opened it and his shoulders slumped at what the text read.

**[American Idiot]**

**im not sitng w/ u becas maybe avoding u wil mak em stop**

He didn't like Alfred's idea and he stared blankly down at the screen for a long moment before looking up to find Alfred grinning apologetically at him from the separate table, waving at him shyly. He then glanced back down at his mobile and wondered if he should even reply.

**[Artie]**

**I don't like your idea.**

**[American Idiot]**

**but its working**

"Ey, where's Alfred Fagot Jones?"

**[Artie]**

**No it's not.**

"He isn't present at the moment," Arthur replied to the junior, wondering why this guy was still here. He refused to look up at him too, his grip tightening on his cellular as if it would keep him from jumping up at slitting the damn guys throat with a rusty knife and stab his eyes out with the plastic fork that was stuck into today's pasta dish.

"So he dumped you?" he grinned, though the junior stayed a safe distance from Arthur.

"Fuck off," he felt his phone vibrate in his hands, but didn't answer it. He was too busy trying to set the guy on fire with his glare. He then chanced a glance at Alfred who was nervously fiddling with his fork, looking like he wanted to spring up at help Arthur out—he refused to do so unfortunately.

Seeing him glance over at Alfred, the junior crossed his arms and took a lazy stance. "Fagot's avoiding you."

"No he's not, he's doing this because he hopes it'll keep people like you away," he replied, feeling his phone slightly cave in under his grip.

"Nah, he's avoiding you—just wait, the guy will get bored of you and dump you any moment. Don't worry—you just gotta wait."

"Shut up," he was staring back down at his tray of food again. Luckily someone made the guy go away, but Arthur didn't know who. He was too busy glaring at his tray, telling himself that he wouldn't cry.

Arthur glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. It read 12:35, clearly past the time he should've gone to sleep for school tomorrow. He was overthinking what the bloke had said during lunch too. He knew Alfred wouldn't dump him. With a sigh, Arthur reached out for his phone and flipped it open, the screen slightly cracked from the pressure applied to it earlier. It was going to fail within time, Arthur could tell that.

He dialed up Alfred's number and mentally kicked himself for calling the American at such a late time. He obviously wasn't going to be awake, but that didn't keep the pilot from hoping. When he got no answer too, he knew he shouldn't have been disappointed either. Rolling onto his side, Arthur forced himself to fall asleep, taking another hour and a half to do so.

When he woke up, he found that Alfred had texted him just ten minutes ago. Flipping the mobile open, his mood darkened at what Alfred's horrible spelling and grammar read.

**[American Idiot]**

**cant driv u 2 skol arty sory :(**

He snapped it shut, mentally noting that he should force Francis to get him a new cellular before forcing him out of his bed and to start his morning routine. Looks like he'd be taking the bus today.

And the next few days went on like that. Arthur would take the bus to school, not find Alfred anywhere and sit alone at the scarcely populated table. He would then take the bus home, do his homework, maybe study for a test and then go to sleep. Oh, and he'd go to the hangar and fly his plane to the point of Francis warning him that his engine was stressing out. Arthur would simply tell Francis to fix the problem and the mechanic would do so. His dad would watch him just as blankly as Arthur was whenever the two happened to be in their apartment room at the same time, likely wondering what the hell happened.

Arthur had started to invite Francis over to his place more often now like he had before he met Alfred. The two would talk about nothing of great importance and sometimes Francis would take Arthur to a bar and they'd drink their brains out. Unfortunately, Arthur wasn't a fun drunk anymore and Francis would occasionally ponder over whether he should leave the poor Brit at the bar before driving the pilot home, knowing that leaving him there would only anger Arthur.

Francis wondered why Arthur's mood had darkened the way it did and soon realized how he never saw Alfred with the pilot anymore. He texted Matthew one day and the other had said that bullying was making Alfred avoid Arthur like a plague. If Arthur had seen that, he would've killed the next living thing that dared to cross his path.

When the two were in the hangar, watching the mid-January snow fall to the ground, they'd be in silence. It wasn't peaceful nor awkward, but rather stale. Sometimes Francis would have a cup of coffee in his hand or Arthur would be sitting in the cockpit of his plane, his legs lazily hanging out and some other times, Francis would be working on the Boeing's engine, fixing whatever problems Arthur had caused it.

That's what he was currently doing—and it was extremely stressful. "Okay _Angleterre,_ I'm not sure if I can fix this one," he muttered, tossing his gloves on the cement floor in slight frustration, Arthur having seated himself in the cockpit, his legs hanging out the side, currently attempting to take a nap. Arthur simply cracked an eye open to look down at Francis before closing it once more.

"We might have to get a new engine then," Arthur answered, both of his eyes closed.

"Yeah," Francis agreed, tightening his jacket around his torso even though the hangar was significantly warmer than the subzero temperature outside. "Don't fly today, your engine's bad and they're predicting a bad storm. Ten inches."

"I'll make a note," Arthur answered just as flatly as he had before.

"At least sound like you're taking me serious Arthur," Francis leant against Arthur's biplane, catching his attention when he used his real name. "You're worrying me."

Arthur sighed and pulled his legs into the cockpit, leaning over the edge to look down at Francis. "I'm fine."

"You clearly aren't," Francis crossed his arms, a towel over his shoulder. "Why don't you go visit Alfred?" he then suggested. Arthur fell silent and he stared at the control panel, inspecting the instruments built into the plane. "Just go over and go say hi—see what he does."

"Fine."

So that's how Arthur found himself standing in the midst of a snowstorm that borderlined a blizzard, his finger hovering over the doorbell. He finally sighed and decided quit acting like a girl and press the doorbell. He could hear first twelve notes of The Star Spangled Banner from where he was standing and smiled at the tune Alfred had set his doorbell to.

It took a moment, but eventually Alfred answered the door. The American glanced down at Arthur who was about to question Alfred why he hadn't seen him lately, the words of his bullies finally having gotten to him yesterday, Alfred pulled the pilot into a rough hug before kissing him on the lips roughly. Arthur was shocked at the American's actions, but wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck eventually and kissed him back.

When they separated, Alfred smiled brightly down at Arthur. "I've missed you so much Artie."

"That's why I came here..." Arthur muttered. "You could've visited me after school and last weekend too…"

"Sorry, I've been swamped with homework, a bit of hate calls and texts and Mattie needed my help with a few things—we're getting dad's birthday party ready and he doesn't know mom's gonna be here," Alfred grinned, tightening his grip around Arthur's waist.

"And you haven't found any time for me?"

"Well I can't exactly hang with you at school Artie."

"You don't have to _avoid_ me at school Alfred—and stop calling me that, I have a real name," Arthur grunted, his stress making him irritable.

"Whoa, what's with the attitude all of a sudden?" Alfred questioned, though there was no humor in his voice. "Plus, I'm not avoiding you, I'm just staying away so that they won't bother us—they don't really bother us if we're not together," Arthur's heart squeezed uncomfortable in his chest at what Alfred's claim could've meant if a few words had been altered.

"That's still avoiding Alfred," Arthur retorted.

"I'm doing it so no one gets hurt!"

"You're overthinking it Alfred, it's hurting me more than it'll hurt anyone else!" Arthur barked, shoving Alfred off of him and jabbing an index finger into the American's chest.

"No!" Alfred shook his head. "You're the one that's overthinking things!"

"You're not making anything now, or before this any better!" Arthur snapped, stomping his foot angrily.

"Well maybe we should break up if both ways hurt people!" apparently the bullies had gotten through with Alfred too, but Arthur didn't think of that possibility—he wasn't thinking of them now.

"_You did not just suggest that!_" Arthur snapped. "Quit thinking about other people and think about yourself for once!" he continued angrily.

"Wha—? No way, that's a pretty selfish way to think isn't it?" Alfred's voice was sharp and accusing.

"So you're saying I'm selfish?"

"Maybe I am!" and Arthur turned around with an angry huff. Damn Francis for suggesting this, damn Alfred for not seeing things from a different perspective. He then turned around about halfway down the driveway.

"We're done!"

"Fine!" and Alfred slammed the door shut, leaving Arthur to storm all the way back to the hangar in the middle of a blizzard. Funny how the weather reflected his mood.

Francis turned when he heard Arthurs angry cursing come from the entrance to the hangar. "Arthur, wha—?" he was shoved aside roughly and Arthur jumped into his plane, tossing his goggles over the edge, the object making a dull sound when it made contact with the cement floor. "Arthur what do you think you're doing?" Francis questioned when he heard the engine to the plane come to life.

Arthur didn't answer and drove the plane out of the hangar and down the runway. "Arthu—Damn it!" Francis dashed off to the radio tower and snatched a headset off of someone else's head, the other having no time to protests when Francis tuned in with Arthur who had, much to his luck, at least put a headset on. "Arthur what the hell are you doing?"

"_Leave me alone!"_ Francis could barely hear his friend over the blizzard and the sputtering engine of the biplane.

"This is horrible weather to by flying in and your plane isn't in the right condition—what are you thinking?"

"_In case you didn't hear me—I clearly told you to leave me alone!_"

"ARTHUR LAND!"

Alfred huffed and stared out the window, furiously wiping away tears that seemed to endlessly stream down his face. He couldn't remember why he and Arthur had fought just an hour ago, but he didn't want to remember. All he knew was that Arthur was being a jerk.

His phone began playing _O Canada _and he found himself happy that it wasn't _God Save the Queen_. "Hey Mattie…"

"Alfred! Thank God you answered Francis just called—check the news," came Matthew's frantic voice. Hesitantly, Alfred reached for the remote to the television and pressed the power button, changing the channel from the Discovery network to the news. He sank in his seat when he saw a news reporter struggling to stay standing as she reported just in front of a plane crash of what seemed to be a biplane in the middle of the bad January blizzard.

"So?" Alfred grumbled, hoping that this was some plan to get him and Arthur back together that his cousin and Francis had created. "Why am I watching this?"

"Do you not recognize that plane? It's Arthurs! Its—can't you see how bad the accident is?"

"Some things look worse than they actually are…"

"Alfred," Matthew's voice was a chocked sob. "Arthur's in critical condition and they aren't expecting for him to live through the night—aren't you coming?"

"…_No_…"

Matthew sobbed as he snapped his phone shut, having heard enough from Alfred. He wiped his tears away and glanced over at Francis who was basically a mess in the chair he was sitting in, muttering about it all being his fault. Matthew simply crawled over to Francis and snuggled into Francis's arms, the Frenchman hugging him close to him and nuzzling the top of his head. "_Matthieu, ll est de ma faute_…"

They were then alerted that they didn't expect Arthur to live three more hours.

Back at Alfred's home, Alfred's dad simply comforted his son as he mourned, Liberty desperately trying to lick his tears away.

XXXX

**Matthieu, ll est de ma faute – Matthew, it's all my fault**

** Oh no…I almost made myself cry as I typed this…So please review, I love to hear what you have to say, I'd especially love to hear what you have to say for this chapter and peace out my friends :)**


	18. Chapter 18

** Lol, I love this story so much…If I wasn't on a 'Don't Let it Get to Your Head' – 'Flying's His Thing' – 'One Times Two is Two' cycle, I'd probably be updating this even faster with how excited I am to update this story. So yeah, enjoy :)**

**XXXX**

Alfred's grip on the steering wheel was tight, making his knuckles turn white from the pressure. His eyes were trained strictly on the road in front of him, easing on the gas pedal. At least it was Friday. He felt horrible—he wasn't able to sleep at all last night, literally. His heart wouldn't stop constricting to the point of it being unbearable. When he finally gave up and decided to get up to get ready for the day three hours earlier than he normally did, Alfred looked at the clock and the tears returned. Thursday had transitioned into Friday faster than it would when asleep and with the possibility of Arthur being dead, he found no motivation to go to school.

His dad ended up forcing him through his morning routine, asking Alfred over and over if he was alright, hoping that his son wasn't depressed or, even worse, suicidal. Alfred didn't eat breakfast either and that was a first. The young man always poured himself at least seven bowls of sugary cereal before going to school and he had barely finished one this morning.

He had zoned out and had to hit the brakes when he saw the yellow tape draped from one side of the road to the other by street lamps, cutting off access to said path. Alfred blinked a few times, not exactly knowing what he was looking at until he noticed the wrecked body of what used to be a biplane and two buildings that had been totaled from having said object crash into them. He bit his lip when he saw the British flag stickers on the dilapidated wings (Alfred soon figured out that it was Francis who stuck those on). Turns out it took a while for the clean-up to arrive.

Slumping in his seat, Alfred took the detour that was offered. He eventually forced himself to pull over and take a few deep breaths, forehead rested on the wheel. His breaths were shaky and he almost started crying again, but Alfred forced the waterworks back and lifted his head from the wheel and continued his drive to school.

Alfred finally arrived at school. He parked his car and killed the engine not soon after before proceeding with staring at the brick building, his motivation having died a long time ago. He had no intention of stepping out of his car and turned his head when he heard someone knock on his window. Blinking, he saw Kiku standing there, a worried look on his face. With a sigh, Alfred heaved the door open and stepped out, slamming the door shut. "Hey Kiku."

"Hello Alfred, are you okay? You don't look good," Kiku asked, blinking up at the American his expression not changing in the slightest. Alfred sighed and itched at the back of his head, shifting his weight from leg to leg before forcing on a smile that was so fake even that Feliciano boy could've seen through it.

"Yeah, 'm great why?" he lied. Kiku's frown became more distinct and he stepped closer to Alfred and abruptly hugged him. "Wha—? Kiku what's up?"

"I saw the news last night," Kiku answered, arms still wrapped around Alfred's torso. "Is Arthur alright? The reporters said the hospital didn't expect for him to make it through the night," Kiku then asked suddenly, Alfred, feeling a pang of sorrow, forced the sob back down his throat. It was hard to do so as well since he was trying to keep Kiku from knowing he and Arthur had broken up.

"Heh, he's actually doing fine," Alfred lied, forcing on that fake smile once more. Kiku remained silent as he separated from Alfred and looked up at his hurting American friend. "Don't worry too much Kiku—you'll get worry lines," Alfred chuckled humorlessly, his laugh dry and forced. Kiku averted his gaze to the snow covering the pavement below. "Yeah, I'm surprised too that they still make us go to school today—expected for it to be a snow that, that was eleven whole inches!"

"Uh…I'll see you later Alfred," Kiku muttered and left. His fake smile dropped the second Kiku turned around and Alfred sighed heavily once the Japanese boy was out of earshot. He had lied to the one person who used to be his best friend in the whole world. Come to think of it, Alfred hadn't been hanging out with Kiku very much lately. He now felt bad and again, his motivation nosedived even further if possible.

With another heavy sigh, Alfred adjusted the position of his backpack and began his trudge to school. He made sure he walked as slow as possible and drug his feet in the snow and hopefully ended up getting frostbite from doing so. A few of the guys he'd been bullied by recently tried to pick on him, but his dull mood actually scared them away. Alfred stuffed his freezing hands into his pockets once he made it to the front door just as the first bell rang, announcing that he had only five minutes to get to class.

Alfred sighed and drug himself to his first period class just as slowly. His mind felt numb and he vaguely noted that he didn't see Matthew where he always saw him in the morning. Alfred then started to wonder where his cousin was as he entered the classroom that served as his first period and seated himself in the assigned seat. Whipping his mobile out, Alfred saw that he had received a few texts overnight from Matthew.

With great hesitance, Alfred opened the first one up.

**[Mattie]**

**I don't think you deserve to know this, but Arthur's alive. He flat lined twice though. I called in sick too just so you know.**

**[Mattie]**

**Arthur says he hates you.**

**[Mattie]**

**They didn't expect him to start talking for at most two weeks. Francis said that it reminds him of me when I was hospitalized. Why the hell am I telling you this?**

**[Mattie}**

**And don't think Arthur's in the safe zone, they don't expect him to live through the weekend if his Pneumonia doesn't get any better.**

Pneumonia! All Alfred knew about that was that it was dangerous. He'd have to ask his dad what the Pneumonia was when he got home. Swallowing thickly, Alfred rubbed his forehead with shaky hands, noting that he was sweating. Arthur hated him. The first words out of his mouth after the accident were hateful ones towards Alfred. Sniffing, Alfred buried his head in his folded arms, rubbing his eyes on his long sleeves in an attempt to get the tears to dry up. His heart kept clenching in his chest painfully and Alfred swallowed down another sob before lifting his head once more and read the next text.

**[Mattie]**

**Why am I even keeping you updated? You probably don't even care…**

**[Mattie]**

**Arthur almost flat lined just now. Francis is a huge mess too.**

**[Mattie]**

**Al, please at least visit him tomorrow or Sunday, all his health is doing is going downhill and he could be gone any moment.**

Alfred snapped his cellular shut just as his teacher walked in and the bell rang, burying his face in his arms once more. At the current moment he just wanted to curl up and die right on the spot, he's forced to school when the sky just dropped eleven inches of snow on them, Arthur crashes and basically is going to die in two days with how Matthew puts it and the Brit hates him to top it off, Matthew probably hates him too with how angry some of his texts sounded.

His day went on in a blur, not the fast kind, but the kind where you're not really registering things properly. Alfred had broken down in third period and was luckily left alone—he'd never been so thankful for a backseat in his whole life. Lunch was horribly lonely without Arthur sitting two tables down and Matthew not being present to keep him company. His bullies even left him alone, calling him fagot from afar—he ignored them though. He was happy that it was Friday.

Finally, the day ended and Alfred found himself sitting in his cold truck, said vehicle's engine running, though the heat wasn't on. He sat in there, not exactly knowing what to do at the moment, for the traffic jam of the end of the school day had already begun. Sometimes he waited impatiently, going as far as honking at a few people in irritation. But now he just had his car parked in the spot he had parked it that morning, not exactly knowing whether he felt like leaving or not. Sighing, he extracted his mobile and read the rest of Matthew's texts, finding one new one since he read them this morning.

**[Mattie]**

**Arthur's been awake longer than the doctors like and had to sedate him.**

**[Mattie]**

**You should see how many machines Arthur's hooked up to as well…it's kinda scary.**

**[Mattie]**

**You don't have to, but please come visit, Arthur's dying here.**

Matthew and Francis were currently in the lobby of the hospital, Matthew's head in Francis's lap while the rest of his body was stretched out across four vacant seats to serve as a bed. Matthew sighed and flipped his cellular shut, finding no response from Alfred. Even in school the guy would text so this was something to worry about. Alfred would do anything to avert his attention from academics. "Do you think Alfred will come?"

Francis shrugged his shoulders, running a hand through Matthew's hair as he did so. "I'm not so sure on that one Matthew," he then verbally answered, glancing down into Matthew's dark blue, almost violet eyes. Francis had been horrified when Arthur flat lined that first time and one would think the Frenchman was now capable of a heart attack. Despite the relationship he and Arthur shared publically made one think that the two despised the other (more on Arthur's half), Francis would probably be just as devastated as Alfred if Arthur actually died. Matthew had gone into a panic alongside the Frenchman and the two earned looks.

"What're we going to be doing tomorrow?" Matthew then asked, draping an arm over his eyes tiredly. Francis again shrugged his shoulders with an 'I don't know' before taking out a book. Matthew removed his arm and glanced up at the cover of the book, reading it out loud. "…And the Show Went On…Cultural life in Nazi-occupied Paris, sounds interesting."

"It is interesting indeed," Francis nodded his head. After a bit of silence in between the two, Matthew extracted his phone from his pocket, flipping it open, intent on texting Alfred once more, but was stopped from doing so when Francis gently grasped Matthew's wrist before extracting the device form the Canadian's hands. "Alfred knows enough. If he cares, he'll come. Who knows? He might even be irritated with your texts," Francis pointed out, pocketing Matthew's mobile. The cousin of Alfred simply stared up at Francis.

Matthew then sighed and snuggled closer to Francis. "Yeah, I guess you're right—though Al's not that kind of person," Matthew answered, wrapping an arm around Francis's waist as the other continued reading. Another silence settled in between the two before Matthew decided to speak up again. "So…what're you learning in that book of yours?"

"That France was full of nonbelievers," Francis's voice was a dramatic sigh and Matthew laughed at his boyfriend's answer. Smiling at the happiness Matthew was displaying, Francis leaned down to kiss the other on the lips before pulling back.

"Is that actually true?" Matthew giggled.

"Well with the way this book puts it, yeah, sure sounds like it," Francis grinned, running a hand through Matthew's hair once more. Once the two stopped chuckling, Matthew and Francis fell into a third and more permanent silence. The Canadian eventually closed his eyes and fell asleep, having been up all night out of fear for Arthur. As Matthew slept, Francis continued to read. When the Frenchman noticed that the one in his lap was asleep, he sighed, closed his book and bent over to kiss Matthew on the forehead.

The first thing Alfred did when he got home was lock himself in his room, plopping down onto his bed only to be met by an irritated Liberty who he had just sat on. "Oh sorry girl," he smiled faintly at the dog and pat her head. The American then sighed and rolled onto his side so that he was facing the German shepherd, taking ahold of one of her paws in the process. "Liberty—what do I do now?" Liberty licked Alfred's nose and he smiled again. "I mean, Artie's…hurt and I don't know if I should visit him or not—Mattie said he hates me so it's probably better to just not go right?" another lick to his nose. "But Arthur's dying there and if I don't go, that fight will be the last memory I'll have of him if he dies, so I don't know if I should go or not," another lick to his nose and Alfred took Liberty's head in his hands, kissing her right in between the eyes. "You're a good dog."

Alfred then turned onto his other side, glancing at the dog figurine Francis had given to him for Christmas on the nightstand. Reaching over, Alfred grabbed it and rolled back over so that he was facing Liberty once more, showing her the figurine with a small smile gracing his lips. "Looks like ya don't it?" Liberty sniffed the object as Alfred inspected it before leaning over to place the object back on the nightstand.

Rolling back over and scooting closer to the large dog, Alfred hugged Liberty's neck and nuzzled his face into her soft fur. "You're a good girl. You're a good girl," he muttered a few times before yawning and falling asleep. He wasn't one to take naps, but he just couldn't help it at the moment. Today, even though he hadn't done anything physically exhausting, had absolutely sapped him dry.

His nap lasted only two hours according to the clock. Alfred yawned and smiled, finding that Liberty had stayed with him the whole time. Patting her muzzle and kissing her nose, Alfred rolled onto his back before sitting up and pulling his sweater off, the room feeling unbearably hot. Once he had thrown the sweater off to the side, Alfred reached for his phone and opened it, finding no new messages much to his disappointment.

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Alfred turned back over so that he was facing his dog once more. "Should I visit Arthur?" he then asked, looking into Liberty's eyes. "I mean, I know I already told you that I want to see him because he could be gone any minute but I don't want to see him because he hates me…who am I kidding? I'm talking to a dog…" Alfred huffed and threw his legs over the edge of his bed, removing his shirt as well, finding his room far too hot—hopefully walking around shirtless would cool him down. "I guess I'll see if I feel like it tomorrow…" and Alfred headed down stairs to play video games.

Alfred snored himself awake, rolling off of the couch and falling onto the floor as well. With an aggravated huff, Alfred shook his head to get his hair out of his face before glancing at the controller he had gripped in his right hand. Turning to glance up at the television, he saw that the game he was playing last night was currently on the results screen. Apparently he had fallen asleep in the middle of a battle on his game. With a huff, Alfred cancelled out and turned the system off, finding no interest in playing at the moment. He then proceeded with turning the television off and standing up to check the time.

As he entered the kitchen, he glanced at the numbers glowing on the microwave, seeing that it was surprisingly, rather early in the morning for a Saturday. He had woken up at about seven. That would be late for a school day, but it was pretty early for Alfred on a Saturday—normally he'd sleep in until lunchtime. He noted that his dad and Liberty weren't present.

Heading over to the cupboards to pour himself a heaping bowl of cereal, Alfred yawned as he did so, almost pouring orange juice into the bowl instead of milk—he was glad he caught himself in the act before he could actually ruin his breakfast. Alfred then seated himself in a seat at the kitchen table and immediately lost his appetite the second the memories of the past two days made themselves present. He felt nauseated now and stared down into the bowl of sugary cereal. It'd be a waist if he didn't eat it…

Alfred eventually finished the bowl of cereal that had gone soggy by the time he finally mustered up enough courage to stuff a spoonful of said food into his mouth. He then headed upstairs to get the rest of his morning routine out of the way.

When he entered his room, Alfred grabbed his phone on his way to the bathroom, flipping it open and finding one new text from Matthew. Just as hesitantly as he had been at school yesterday morning, Alfred opened it and read its contents.

**[Mattie]**

**His Pneumonia's gotten worse.**

Great, more bad news to rain on his parade. With a sigh, Alfred snapped his cellular shut and headed into the bathroom, finding no reason to reply to any of Matthew's texts lately.

Once he got the rest of his morning routine finished, Alfred threw on a shirt and a winter coat and headed outside, grabbing his car keys on the way. Maybe he'd visit Arthur today. He seated himself in his truck, but didn't start said vehicle immediately. He still didn't want to visit Arthur more than he wanted to, so Alfred ended up sitting in his cold truck for an extensive amount of time.

Finally, Alfred stuck the keys into the ignition and started the truck up, literally sliding out of the driveway on the ice that was hidden under the snow before driving off. He first headed to a Starbucks for a coffee though. He convinced himself that he just needed some caffeine before he went to the hospital, but as he got closer to his destination, Alfred was starting to second guess his reason.

Alfred abruptly stopped the car, the person that had been driving behind him bumping into the back bumper of his truck, honking their horn angrily before driving around Alfred and flipping him the bird. Alfred didn't see the show of anger though, his attention too focused on the cup of coffee in his lap. He remained in the middle of the road, getting a few honks from other people who were forced to drive around the obstacle.

His right hand tightened around the wheel and his left hand flew to the wheel as well, spilling the coffee onto the ground as he U-turned and headed in the opposite direction of the hospital.

XXXX

**And the Show Went On by Alan Riding (It's an interesting book :D)**

** Oh, this chapter's full of turmoil and confused Alfred…I'm listening to Christmas instrumentals whilst writing this too…my mom put them on as she was decorating the tree, but like, she suddenly stopped. Oh and guess what, there's no snow. Not even an inch. I mean, come on, I'm in Minnesota, a state that borders Canada (:D) and there's like, fifty degree weather. FIFTY! Twenty twelve is fucking upon us! This winter is so damn disappointing…**

** Well, please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**


	19. Chapter 19

** Lol, my feet are cold…Well Al's being a stubborn blockhead isn't he? Let's see how long he can pull that off for…Enjoy~**

**XXXX**

Kiku stuffed one hand into his pocket as he lifted the other to knock on the door to Alfred's home. It was currently Saturday around lunchtime and Kiku had visited because Alfred's behavior yesterday before school was bothering the Japanese boy. He looked up when someone answered the door too.

"Ah, hello Mr. Jones Richard," Kiku bowed deeply before straightening up and stuffing his hands back into his pockets. Alfred's father, Richard, smiled down at the short young man as Kiku continued. "I came over to see Alfred, he was acting weird yesterday before school and I wanted to talk with him today."

"No problem Kiku," he nodded, letting Kiku in. "Though Al's kinda busy at the moment with college applications—got started a bit too late," he continued as Kiku took off his boots and put his jacket on the coat hanger before going into the living room to sit on the couch, hands in his lap. "Say, did you see Alfred earlier today—maybe a bit before nine thirty this morning? He seemed pretty upset, he came back from somewhere not too long ago."

"_Sumimasen, _but no, I haven't seen Alfred at all today," Kiku answered, shaking his head. The two looked at the stair case when they heard footsteps ascending it.

Then Alfred appeared. "Oh, hey Kiku!" he grinned at the Japanese boy, though like yesterday, it was forced and fake enough for Feliciano to distinguish the difference in between it and a real smile. Alfred bound over to the couch and plopped himself in it right next to Kiku, letting himself bounce a bit from the action. "Why're you here man?" he then asked, refusing to drop the fake smile.

"May I speak with you?" Kiku asked. Alfred frowned a bit at the seriousness in Kiku's voice and waved for his father to leave the room, the man doing so in respect for his son. Alfred then turned to face Kiku, giving him his full attention. "Are you okay?"

A bit taken back by the question, Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm great Kiku."

"Are you okay Alfred?" Kiku restated, determination in his dark brown eyes. Alfred huffed and folded his arms, not exactly liking the stubbornness Kiku was displaying. It wasn't exactly something his Japanese friend showed often, but definitely had.

"I'm fine Kiku…" he grunted.

"Are you okay?" this time it was drawn out and almost threatening—Kiku obviously able to see through his lie as if it were made of the clearest glass.

Alfred's frown became deeper and he slumped his shoulders heavily, not wanting to argue with Kiku. "Fine…I'm not fine, happy now?" he answered with a slightly irritated huff.

"And why?"

"What are you a cop?" Alfred muttered before letting out a sigh. "Well, you know how Arthur's in the hospital and all? Well…I want to see him, but I can't…"

"What's keeping you from doing that then?" Kiku interrogated, folding his hands in his lap patiently as if he had all day which he probably did have.

"Well we get into his huge fight before the accident and when he woke up, he told Mattie who told me that he hated me. So if I go, he'll obviously not want me there, but if I don't go, the last thing I would've done with him was argue, so I'm kinda stuck in between the two," Alfred explained, squirming a bit in his seat with the way Kiku was staring at him blankly—it was kind of scaring him.

"I hate you," Kiku then said.

"I don't understand what you're trying to do here…" Alfred muttered, his gaze falling to his hands which were rested in his lap.

"I'm saying that I hate you—but do I actually hate you?"

"Well…no…"

Kiku smiled at Alfred finally and placed a hand on his shoulder almost hesitantly. "See? Just because someone says something doesn't have to mean that they're being truthful," Kiku then explained.

"Yeah, but I can totally understand why Arthur would hate me—I mean, we argued and I got his angry and he crashed and it's all basically my fault for making him mad in his point of view. If you ask me it was his fault for coming in the first place…"

"Matthew told me that Francis told Arthur to see you," Kiku pointed out, Alfred falling silent at the announcement. "And plus, it's very likely that it's Arthur's frustration speaking, not his heart," the Japanese boy continued, removing his hand from Alfred's shoulder and resting it back in his lap.

"What if it actually _is_ his heart saying it?"

"What if it's not?"

"You're being difficult…"

Kiku smiled at that. "_Sumimasen, _but I think that it's you whose being the difficult one," Alfred stood up and headed into the kitchen to make himself some hot chocolate, not exactly wanting to talk with Kiku anymore. "Are you going to visit Arthur at least?"

"…Maybe…"

Antonio rushed through the automatic doors that were clearly too slow at opening themselves for him and Lovino who was being drug behind him by his wrist. He spotted Francis and rushed over to the Frenchman, greeting him hastily. "_Hola Francis como estas? Como esta Arthur? Estas bien? Yo necesitas saber por favor!"_ the Spanish young man began ranting in Spanish and Francis had to jump in in the middle of Antonio's rant to get the guy to calm down. Eventually the two were yelling at each other in two separate languages.

"_Lo siento, pero no pude llevar antes! _Is-is he okay? The reporters made it sound so bad!" Antonio basically wailed, grasping Francis by the collar of his neck.

"_El hombre la bondad, la calma!" _ Francis yelled back, tearing Antonio's hands off of his shirt. "I cannot understand you crazy language, so please restate yourself," he continued moodily, Antonio shying away slightly.

"_Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca bastardo!"_ Romano barked, glaring intently at Francis who only caught 'bastard' out of the sentence spoken in Italian. Francis and Romano were soon arguing in French and Italian while Antonio was trying to calm them down in Spanish when Matthew returned, his head basically imploding with the variety of European languages, only able to understand Francis.

"What are you guys yelling about?" Matthew asked.

"_Lovino y Francis son peleando!" _Antonio sobbed overdramatically, pointing his index finger at the two as if he were a child accusing his sibling for stealing the cookie when he actually performed the crime.

"Wha—?"

"_Non stiamo combattendo!"_ Lovino barked, being able to understand a bit of Spanish, before whapping Antonio upside the head who began to sulk immediately after being hit.

"B-but I don't—"

"_Il est à me crier dessus!" _ Francis accused, pointing a finger at Lovino and Matthew just wanted to die right on the spot, clearly disliking having to be the mediator. The three soon began yelling at each other, Antonio having said something and Lovino telling him to belt up before Francis told Lovino to be quiet. Matthew looked around and they were clearly earning stares, many interested in why they were hearing four different languages.

"English everyone—_English!" _ Matthew yelled at the top of his lungs, silencing the other three. "Now! Antonio, I assume you drug Lovino here, so talk."

"Well, I heard that Arthur crashed on Thursday and the reporters made it sound really bad so I wanted to come but I couldn't get here any earlier than today and then I asked Francis about it and he started yelling at me and then Lovi started yelling at me and then Francis and Lovi started yelling at each other and I tried to calm them down and you came and we all started arguing and…stuff…" Antonio explained all in one breath. "…Is Arthur okay and can we visit him…?"

Francis and Matthew both sighed in unison. "No, he's not exactly what one would say fine—condition's too severe as well," Matthew explained, seating himself next to Francis.

"W-well what's wrong?"

"He has a concussion which might lead to potential amnesia," Francis started. "Has some pretty bad Pneumonia that isn't going away and broke both of his legs. He had excessive bleeding on Thursday when they picked him up, but they've fixed that the best they could—that's what we've been told so far," he concluded.

"…Is he going to be okay?" Antonio then asked hesitantly, his hold on Lovino's hand tightening slightly, the Italian letting it slide.

Francis sighed and leant back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. "Probably not…"

"Okay, you know how you're friend's doing, now let's go," Lovino grunted, tugging at Antonio's arm. Antonio refused to move and seated himself next to Matthew, urging Lovino into the seat next to him.

"We're staying Lovi."

"Don't call me that you churro pig," Lovino bit in irritation.

"So, how long have you been here?" Antonio asked Francis and Matthew, ignoring Lovino's insult, having gotten used to it long ago.

"Too long," Matthew sighed. "Ever since Thursday night an hour after he crashed," the Canadian continued tiredly.

"Yeah, I think we'll be leaving for home tonight and will come back tomorrow morning," Francis added, pulling Matthew closer to him. "I think this one needs to sleep in a real bed before he gets too deprived."

"Shut it."

The four glanced at the automatic doors when someone walked in, their footsteps a bit heavy since the boots that they were wearing were rather large. Matthew blinked a few times when he noticed that it was Alfred, his head bowed and hands stuffed into his pockets, trailing snow into the building. "Alfred!" he jumped up and approached his cousin with hurried steps. "Despite the situation, I didn't expect for you to come."

"I'm surprised he actually came with how he's been acting lately…" Francis remarked mostly to himself. Antonio perked up at the things Matthew and Francis were saying, becoming confused.

"Wait, what do you mean? Wouldn't Alfred be here a lot of Arthur got in the hospital?" Antonio asked, having not been updated on the current events of Alfred, Francis, Matthew and Arthur's lives. "I-I mean they seemed pretty happy at the grocery store two weeks ago if what happened is what I'm thinking happened…" (1)

"Uh…Alfred and Arthur kind of got into a fight that caused Arthur to crash his plane," Francis explained, glancing at the empty row of seats next to them. "And that was two weeks ago, a lot can happen with that amount of time when it comes to relationships," Francis continued before Antonio had to nod in agreement.

"Oh, I see."

"Are we allowed to see Arthur?" Alfred asked, his voice clearly tired from the stress of the last two days. He lifted his head so he could look at Matthew.

Matthew smiled. "I'm glad you thought this thro—"

"Kiku forced me to come."

"…Oh…" Matthew instantly deflated at the new piece of information. "No we're not allowed to visit—his condition's too severe and they don't want anyone visiting at the moment," he then continued almost professionally.

Alfred seemed hesitant with asking his next question. "What's the damage?"

"A concussion that could possibly lead to potential amnesia, broke both legs and has severe Pneumonia, that's all we know about right now," Matthew continued, forcing his anger down with a cool demeanor. "Did have excessive bleeding Thursday when he crashed, but they fixed much of that already," he continued, stuffing his fists into his pockets.

"M'kay," Alfred nodded and turned to leave.

"Wh-where are you going?" Matthew asked, his voice slipping into a high note for a brief moment.

"Home, where else?" Alfred answered without turning to look at Matthew, continuing through the automatic doors. Matthew simply stood there in shock before huffing angrily.

"_Secousse_!" he yelled at Alfred's retreating back, stomping a foot angrily before turning to rant to Francis, his speech a jumbled mix of English and French. "_Can you believe him! Mon Dieu!"_ Matthew wailed, glaring at Francis, demanding his opinion. "Think of other people _my ass_! The damn bastard—ugh!"

Antonio watched in slight amazement and the fit Matthew was currently throwing before grinning at Lovino. "You think you got competition?"

"No way in hell," Lovino grunted, pushing Antonio away from him, the Spaniard having leant on him as he asked him the absurd question. Antonio simply rolled his eyes before muttering about it being pretty impressive before returning his attention to watching Francis deal with an angry Matthew.

Alfred sped up his footsteps once he heard Matthew yell at him as he left the hospital. He stopped at the entrance, able to hear his cousin's angry French-English hybrid ranting before continuing on to his truck. There world, he went to the hospital and figured out a bit more—now would people please leave him alone? He wouldn't be able to return anyways now that there was an angry French and English speaking Canadian in the hospital. Matthew might as well be wielding a hockey stick, he _had_ hit Alfred before with one of those and it wasn't fun.

With a sigh, he seated himself in his truck, but didn't start it immediately, simply resting back in his seat and clearing his head. He really did want to see Arthur, but now that he figured out a bit more about his condition, he kind of wished that he would've never came—it was as bad as everyone made it seem, maybe even worse.

Alfred huffed, watching his breath come out in front of him due to the cold air before sticking the key into the ignition, starting up his truck just to get the heat circulating. He wasn't intent on going home now that he'd come all the way to the hospital, but where else did he have to go? He could pick up another coffee from Starbucks and sit in there for a while, but he didn't feel like having more coffee. He didn't really want any company, so visiting other people was a no-no. Much to his surprise, he was perfectly content with sitting in the parking lot of the hospital.

He reclined the chair and stretched, arms stretching high above his head before he let them fall back into his lap, now staring up at the ceiling and that one juice stain in it that he had no idea how it got up there. He then looked at all of the nose prints in the passenger window, Liberty having a thing with pressing her wet nose against the glass. It was a pain to clean out, but it didn't really bother Alfred. It bothered Matthew though with him being a clean freak and all.

Sitting up from his reclined chair, Alfred clicked the radio on, settling with listening to whatever was on Cities 97. (2) Alfred leant back once more, resting his head on his hands which we had folded behind it. Closing his eyes, Alfred listened to the music in silence, running the lyrics in his mind. Set Fire to the Rain by Adele was currently playing (3) and Alfred turned up the music a bit so he could drown everything else minor out.

He looked up when he heard someone knock on his window a bit roughly to get his attention. He was confused for a brief moment before his brain registered that it was Toris. He rolled the window down and smiled weakly at his friend, no longer able to pull his enthusiastic fake on anymore. "Hey Toris, what're you doing here?" he asked as he turned the volume down so he could talk with his friend.

"I heard that Arthur was in the hospital and I remembered that Arthur was that pilot you get along with," Toris explained before motioning to the flowers in his hands.

"Heh…guess you didn't get the update?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Arthur and I broke up before he crashed," Alfred's gaze fell to the pavement Toris was standing on and the Lithuanian immediately apologized with a stutter.

"I-I didn't know, I'm sorry that I brought it up!"

"Nah, you're fine dude," Alfred smiled, leaning back into his truck, getting tired of hanging out of the window. "No need to apologize," he continued in a mumble and Toris nodded his head before bidding him goodbye and walking away in thought.

He pulled his hood over his head as he turned the volume back up, the song almost at its end by the time he did so. Resting back in his seat, Alfred closed his eyes, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should go back in, he'd have to ask Toris when he comes out how Matthew is, because he didn't want his cousin to rip his throat out and set his esophagus on fire if was still angry with him.

With another sigh, Alfred pulled the seat back up, letting it click loudly into place before shifting the truck into drive and driving off, wanting to get some lunch. He'd visit again tomorrow instead.

XXXX

**Hola Francis como estas? Como esta Arthur? Estas bien? You necesitas saber por favor! – Hello Francis how are you? How's Arthur? Is he okay? I need to know please!**

**Lo siento, pero no pude llevar antes! – I'm sorry, but I couldn't get here earlier!**

**El hombre la bondad, la calma! – Goodness man, calm down!**

**Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca bastardo! – Shut the fuck up you bastard!**

**Lovino y Francis son peleando! – Lovino and Francis are fighting!**

**Non stiamo combattendo! – We are not fighting!**

**Il est ****à me crier dessus! – He's yelling at me!**

**Seccousse – Jerk**

**Mon dieu – My God/Good Lord**

**(1) "…if what happened is what I'm thinking happened…" – Holy shit I had no idea how to word that so sorry if it looks awkward and out of place…**

**(2) Cities 97 – A radio station in Minnesota specifically if you live near the Twin Cities—mah fave :D**

**(3) Set Fire to the Rain by Adele on Cities 97 – That was actually what was on when I tuned in when I typed that :D**

** Do you like it? Hope you do :D Hm, this chapter's kinda short. Oh well. Lol, the part where Antonio, Lovino and Francis are arguing in multiple languages was fun to do :D So fun…So please review, love to hear your opinion on how this is going on and peace out my friends :D**


	20. Chapter 20

** Yaaay, just got a new puppy :D He's really cute, but my little brother picked the worst of names…He chose Joseph and I really don't like the name because I don't like giving dogs human names and calling him Joey (since I call my other dog Ranger, Rangie) is just awkward because I have a friend named Joey…Oh well, I shouldn't be complaining about it :P **

**So, I've reached the twentieth chapter here and still love this story to death. Hm, I can't decide on which I like better, this, or 'Don't Let it Get to Your Head'. Sometimes I really don't like that one, but other times, I'm just like '8D ai wuv it!'. I really like this one and at times I'm like T_T So yeah, other than my useless ranting's and the like, enjoy~**

**XXXX**

The day was dry and cold, the air having chapped Matthew's lips a while ago by the time Francis pulled up in his fancy car. Matthew hurried over to the side of his boyfriends car and opened the passenger door before pulling it shut and settling himself in the passenger's seat with a loud huff. "It's so dry out there, and cold! Goodness, I might have to move a bit farther down south," Matthew sighed, rubbing his heavily protected arms.

"Aww, but I'll miss you!" Francis whined, giving Matthew his best kicked puppy expression—surprisingly good at it. Matthew smiled and rolled his eyes, playfully hitting the Frenchman in the arm. "So, are we going to do anything other than go to the hospital today?" Francis then asked as he drove away from Matthew's home.

Matthew hummed before replying. "Hm, maybe we should stop by Al's after going to Sports Authority so I can whack him over the head with a hockey stick for his behavior yesterday," he grinned as Francis chuckled at his answer. Once their laughter died down, the two rode to the hospital in silence, only the sound of the car and outside occurrences keeping the silence from being permanent.

When they arrived at the hospital, Francis killed the engine and the two stepped out of Francis's red vehicle. Francis rounded the front of his car and caught up with Matthew, wrapping an arm around the Canadian's shoulders as they walked through the automatic doors, walking into what felt like a wall of heat when they made it inside. Matthew headed over to the receptionist and smiled almost shyly, cheeks a bit pink from having Francis's arm draped over his shoulders.

"Uh, how is Arthur Kirkland doing?" Matthew asked, leaning onto the elevated tabletop slightly. The young lady nodded her head, repeating the name to check if she had heard Matthew correctly before typing on the keyboard in front of her. Matthew pressed himself closer to Francis in slight anticipation, the other squeezing his shoulder lightly.

"Ah! He's improved a bit ever since you left yesterday night. If he's one quick to recover, you can start visiting him as early as this Thursday," she smiled and Matthew grinned up at Francis at the news.

"Awesome," Matthew then looked at the receptionist. "Thanks a lot for telling us that," he continued, pressing himself into Francis once more. He looked back up at Francis, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "So…are we gonna do something today?" he asked, his voice slightly hushed as if he didn't want the receptionist to hear what he said. She had already averted her attention from the two and they had stepped a few paces pack from the desk, but that didn't keep Matthew from being a bit wary of the homophobes—look at what they did to Alfred and Arthur.

"Sure, would you like to go out for some brunch?" Francis asked, his arm having migrated to being wrapped around Matthew's waist. His Canadian boyfriends smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

Alfred had concluded that he was absolutely miserable that Wednesday afternoon as he sat at the table he and Arthur used to always sit at before all of this drama happened. He sat slumped over his tray of food, staring down at it, clearly finding it unappetizing. He hadn't eaten lunch for the last three days and was only eating breakfast, skipping dinner too. He had lost ten pounds and didn't seem like he was going to stop there.

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed his tray and walked over to a garbage can, tossing his untouched food into it before heading back to the vacant lunch table. The one thing he could be thankful about was that the bullies had stopped bothering him after seeing that Arthur had been absent for a while. They probably thought that he had died and Alfred would rather keep it that way—it kept them from bothering him.

He glanced up when someone came into his line of vision, standing on the other side of the table. He didn't even spare Matthew a fake smile—he knew better not to. "Are you okay Al?" at least Matthew wasn't angry anymore and sounded genuinely concerned. Matthew's expression then softened after a bit more inspection. "Al, have you lost weight?"

Hesitantly, Alfred nodded his head in confirmation. Lying to Matthew—he knew better not to as well. Matthew was able to see though almost all of his lies and had told the American that he was a horrible liar. Matthew frowned and seated himself in the seat across from Alfred, setting his tray on the table in front of him. "You should at least eat then…"

"'M not hungry," Alfred muttered, resting his head on the table. Huffing like a mother would, Matthew folded his arms stubbornly.

"Don't say that. Go get yourself something to eat," he demanded, dark blue eyes stern as he stared down at his cousin. Alfred grinned sheepishly before lifting his head from the table, setting both hands on the tabletop in front of himself.

"Kinda already threw it away," he then answered sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head as he said so. Matthew huffed once more and glanced down at his tray before picking up a wheat bun and handing it to his cousin.

"Then eat that—now don't kill yourself, I gotta go talk with my buddies," Matthew stood up, taking his tray with him. He glanced over his shoulder at Alfred who was staring at the bread bun laying in front of him, clearly not intent on picking it up. "Eat it Alfred," his voice was venomous and it could've been considered a threat. Alfred looked up at Matthew and grabbed the bun, sticking it in his mouth and Matthew smiled before continuing off to the table he normally sat at.

"Hey Mattie," Alfred called, pulling the bun out of his mouth, having not taken a nibble from it. Matthew stopped and glanced over his shoulder at his cousin with a 'yeah?' slight curiosity written on his face. Alfred fiddled with the bun thoughtfully for a moment before looking back up at his cousin with a small smile. "Thanks for worryin' 'bout me…"

Matthew smiled just as Alfred stuck the bun back in his mouth. "No problem," and he turned to continue on his way to his destination. Once Matthew had seated himself and didn't seem like he was going to check back on Alfred, the American spat the bun out and tossed it into the garbage bin not too far from his spot. He hadn't intended on eating it in the first place anyways.

Standing up so he could leave before Matthew figured out that he hadn't eaten the bread given to him, Alfred collected his string backpack and started off for his next class. On his way a few people called him 'faggot' from afar, but didn't go any further. The sting the name had originally created had now been numbed with the overuse of it and Alfred simply ignored them, making sure that he looked bored of all things.

He entered his fifth period class, seating himself in his assigned seat. His teacher had gotten fed up with the class and had assigned seats, making sure that those that talked and goofed off had been separated from each other. Alfred had originally been one of them, but lately, he didn't feel up to anything at the moment. He just wanted to go home and curl up in bed with Liberty who always was on his bed, waiting for Alfred to get home from school. Sometimes she wouldn't be there because his dad had to take her for a job, but most of the times she'd be there. Liberty was getting old too, so she'd be retiring within a year.

Alfred began to wonder what Arthur's dad was doing in the midst of all of the chaos. He wondered if the guy even spared the hospital a visit—probably not. Alfred assumed that he had gone out and drunk his brains out, probably until he turned purple. Slumping his shoulders, Alfred realized that Arthur really didn't have anyone save for Francis, Antonio and Matthew to visit him, he wasn't so sure about himself, but at least he went to the hospital Saturday. If he had landed himself in the hospital, he'd obviously have Matthew, his parents, Toris, Kiku and a load of others—maybe even that Feliciano kid would visit giving that the two seemed to have a lot in common according to a few other students.

Alfred had a large circle of friends and family. Arthur had Francis, Matthew and Antonio since Toris only visited because he had originally assumed that Alfred and Arthur were still together. The rest of Arthur's family was back in England and that was pretty far away. Hell, if it weren't for Alfred gathering up enough courage to even ask Arthur to see his plane in the first place Arthur would have only Francis and maybe Antonio. Actually, if Alfred hadn't spoken with Arthur in the first place all of this would've never happened.

Carding his fingers through his hair, Alfred let out a sigh. Arthur seemed lonely from the outside, but with Francis and Antonio, he seemed to have enough friends. Francis, despite his annoying antics, was actually really nice deep down and was, dare he admit it, quite the fun guy. Antonio was interesting too. He was also a fun guy from what Alfred had seen from the Spanish young man so far. Alfred soon found himself wondering if Arthur would be fine if he just disappeared from the Brit's life. Maybe a bit of sorrow, but would probably return to normal within a month or two. He was being gloomy and pessimistic, but he couldn't help it.

By the time he managed to shake himself out of his depressing thoughts, class had started twenty minutes ago.

Alfred closed the door as loudly as possible once he got home. His father watched him from the kitchen, probably wondering if he should talk with his son or not. Apparently not, for Alfred made it to his room without an interruption, finding Liberty curled up on his bed, glancing up at him, tongue sticking out comically. He smiled at the dog and plopped himself onto the mattress next to her, wrapping his arms around her neck once more and snuggling into her fur. "Life sucks right now girl…" Like always, he received a lick to his nose. He grinned and pushed her muzzle away from his face as she continued to lick his cheeks. "Stop it, your breath stinks."

Liberty woofed and rested her head over the side of Alfred's whose head was now stuck in between the mattress and his dog. He shoved her head off of his and rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "So, how was your day girl?" he asked as the large dog tried to crawl onto his stomach, thinking that she could get away with being treated like a lap dog. "Oof! You're heavy," Alfred wheezed out, cringing at how Liberty's elbows dug into his stomach.

Alfred was forced to shove the German shepherd off of his abdomen when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Sitting up so Liberty couldn't crawl back onto his stomach, Alfred extracted his phone and flipped it open.

**[Mattie]**

**How are you doing Al? Just making sure you aren't physically harming yourself.**

**[Alfred]**

**am not hrmng my slf rite nou sitng w/ liberty**

**[Mattie]**

**Okay. How are you feeling?**

**[Alfred]**

**wat r u my therupist? im gr8t**

**[Mattie]**

**Yes, in fact I am your therapist from now on. I will also be your new English teacher: FIX YOUR DAMN GRAMMAR AND SPELLING.**

**[Alfred]**

…**u remnd me of arthur..he usd 2 do that al the tme…**

**[Mattie]**

**Sorry if I'm forcing you down Memory Lane, but to be truthful, you're being a stubborn son of a bitch.**

**[Alfred]**

**ouch, that hurt maty :(**

**[Mattie]**

**But it's true.**

Alfred sat on his bed, wondering if he should answer to that or not. Matthew was being rather blunt with him at the moment and he didn't want to hear the other's criticism—wasn't he being a concerned relative just a few hours ago during lunch? What made him become his to-the-point therapist? Though therapist wasn't exactly the word for Matthew was being a bit harsh with his words. Alfred probably did deserve it though.

Snapping his cellular shut, Alfred tossed it into the laundry bin in the closet. He didn't care if his phone went through the washer and dryer, he was fucking rich and could buy a new one any day. Opening his eyes, he then got up and headed over to the bin of dirty clothes, snatching his phone off of the top. He dialed a number as he flipped his laptop open as well, opening the Google search engine.

"Hi mom, it's me..."

Matthew sat in a seat not too far from Francis's, hands folded in his lap and lips sealed, having nothing to say to his boyfriend. Francis currently had on of Arthur's hands clasped in both of his, his nose and lips pressed to the back of it as if he were praying, his eyes were closed too. Arthur's eyes were currently shut, but his breathing was regular and Matthew could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He had been so worried about Arthur and was happy that the other was finally getting better.

"What the hell are you doing with my hand…?" Matthew and Francis glanced up when they heard Arthur's raspy voice. It was weak and sounded like he had just gargled a cup full of rusty nails. "Bloody wanker…"

Francis grinned despite himself and squeezed Arthur's hand in his. "Why—I am attempting to breathe a demon into your soul," Francis grinned as Matthew giggled in his seat, scooting it closer to the hospital bed. Arthur smiled and pulled his hand from both of Francis's. "So, how's your memory, do you know who this is?" Francis asked, placing a hand on Matthew's shoulder.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I am not in that severe of a condition thank you very much. That is Matthew Williams you dolt," Arthur answered, Francis smiling at Arthur.

"Oh that is good."

"And I know that you're Francis Bonnefoy and that that…bastard Alfred calls you Bonerfoy," Arthur huffed. Matthew frowned slightly in concern at the distaste that was clear in Arthur's voice when he said Alfred's name. "I am eighteen going on nineteen and I fly a—" Arthur stopped short. "Some sort of biplane."

"Oh _mon ami_, how could you forget your favorite, yet outdated model much like yourself?" Francis half joked, though there was a hint of concern in the Frenchman's voice. Arthur glared at his mechanic, Francis ignoring the look, having gotten used to it and continued. "It is a Boeing Stearman E75, PT-13D, silver."

"I knew it was silver you bastard," Arthur grunted, rubbing a hand over his chest. "My legs hurt."

"That's what you get for not listening to me," Francis pointed out, the words unintentionally slipping out. "…Sorry…"

"Don't even apologize," Arthur bit, glancing heatedly at the ceiling as if he were attempting to burn a hole in it with his gaze alone. "…E75 PT-13D…it doesn't even sound familiar," he then sighed almost miserably. "It just sounds like letters and numbers."

"Ah, that is because they _are_ letters and numbers," Francis pointed out, grinning at Arthur in an attempt to cheer the British pilot up.

"Quit joking around frog," Arthur grumbled. "What did I get Alfred for Christmas?"

Francis and Matthew both swallowed thickly, wondering if they should tell him. "W-well you kinda let him ride in your plane…" Matthew announced, finally breaking the silence, dreading Arthur's answer.

"Then I wish I didn't do that."

"No you don't…" Matthew tried to convince the Brit. This was truly breaking his heart and he wasn't even the one in a relationship with Arthur. Alfred would've probably walked right out of the room and never come back.

Arthur glanced at Matthew, his expression blank. "Yes I do."

Matthew headed straight for Alfred during lunch the next day. He was happy that it was finally Friday—this week had been extremely stressful for his circle of those close to him and he was just happy school was going to be over with within a few hours. "Alfred!"

His cousin looked up from his vacant table and forced a smile onto his lips when he spotted Matthew who seated himself in the seat across from the American. "Hey Mattie, what're you doin' here? Don't you have some other friends to talk to? I'm not exactly a bundle of fun lately as you can see…" he greeted, slumping in his seat as he picked at his food, refusing to put it in his mouth.

"Eat Alfred—and would you like to visit Arthur in the hospital after school?" Matthew asked, knowing that this was a risky move. "He's kind of being a sourpuss right now and I think you should at least visit him before you starve yourself to death," Matthew continued as Alfred forced a forkful of his macaroni into his mouth, cringing visibly.

"'M not hungry…" Alfred repeated like he had Wednesday, swallowing his food with a bit of difficulty. "Besides, I gotta lose some weight anyways."

"That's muscle Al—muscles weight more than fat," Matthew sternly remarked. "You're losing muscles, not fat," he then concluded before stabbing his fork into his food. "Now eat."

"Can't," Alfred huffed, staring down at his food. "Too…nauseated," he continued, sticking his tongue out slightly.

Matthew folded his arms and leant over the table, furrowing his eyebrows at his cousin. "No. Eat," he demanded. "Or I'll have to force feed you," he continued, taking Alfred's fork and forcing the other to take it. Alfred sent him a mildly irritated look before stabbing his fork into his food and resuming with his lunch. Matthew could clearly see that the other was having trouble swallowing, but was happy the American was eating nonetheless. Alfred not eating was like the world ending and apparently, it was ending.

"I don't think I should see Arthur…" Alfred then brought up and Matthew almost slammed his hand onto the tabletop.

"What's up Al? What's up with all of this 'Arthur' stuff? You used to call him 'Artie' all of the time, can't you at least _try_ to get him back? I know you two fought, but it was probably for a really stupid reason! You can't let other people dictate your lives—those football players and others were just homophobes, you said so yourself. Why can't you just man up and go see him for once? Give yourselves a chance Alfred, you might not regret it and if you do, you have all right to murder me three times over," Matthew burst, staring intently at his cousin.

Alfred sat there, having nothing to say to his Canadian relative. "Does he even remember me? Ya know…with the whole amnesia thing?"

"Yes he does. The only thing he doesn't remember so far is what type of plane he flies—so you see? You don't have to start from scratch if that's what's keeping you Al," Matthew answered. "I mean, I can accompany you during your visit if you don't want to be there alone."

"I'm not that much of a wuss Mattie," Alfred smiled genuinely. Matthew folded his arms and huffed, awaiting an answer which Alfred gave not too long after. "Sure, I'll go after school."

Alfred soon found himself in the hospital room, holding a staring contest with Arthur, Matthew having gone into the waiting room to give the two privacy. "Why're you here?"

"Mattie kinda knocked some sense into me," Alfred smiled sheepishly, but became nervous as Arthur continued to stare almost venomously at him. "Eh heh, I uh…" Alfred started, but couldn't find anything more to say. He didn't want to sit in a chair either, the atmosphere too awkward and tense for him to even think about getting comfy. "…I'm sorry."

Arthur's stony stare faltered.

"Can't even remember why we were fighting in the first place…" Alfred continued, itching at the back of his head. "All I remember is that we were fighting and you went off during a blizzard and…shit happened," Alfred chuckled nervously, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Francis said you just suddenly came back all angry and flew off with a bad engine in a blizzard."

"You can leave."

"What…?"

"I don't want to hear your half-assed apology, just get out," Arthur narrowed his eyes at Alfred. The American was clearly shocked—what other reason did Arthur have to keep him angry at him? Alfred thought desperately for anything, but his brain continued with pulling blanks. He had no idea.

"I-I—what reason do you have?"

"Just leave Alfred."

Fine. Alfred wasn't going to make the Brit angrier than he already was—he got it. He could read the atmosphere for once and Kiku would be so proud of him. It was a shame the situation wasn't the sunniest of all of the possibilities.

"Alfred—!" Alfred turned on his heel and left the room. He sped walked all the way to the waiting room and towards the automatic doors, Matthew jumping up and racing over to his cousin, able to see the upset expression Alfred had adopted.

"Alfred, what happened?"

"I told everyone he'd hate me but what did you all say?" Alfred barked once they left the building, spinning on his heel so that he was facing his relative. Matthew could see that Alfred was holding back tears that were threatening to fall at the moment. "You kept telling me that, _oh I should visit him! Oh he won't hate you! Blah, blah, blah!_ News flash! He actually hates me! He's-he's-he's—I'm going home!"

"Alfred!" Matthew called for his cousin, but the other dashed off to his truck, slammed the door shut and sped off, tires clearly having no traction on the ice. Matthew watched as the American basically slid a corner and disappeared. "…Get home safe then…"

XXXX

**Now Artie's being the bastard no? I'm so evil. OMG I can't wait to update this :D:D:D I've got something super epic planned and it's like—O_O So please review, love to hear what you guys have to say! :D Oh, and thanks for the nine reviews last chapter (even though it isn't much), didn't expect a few new faces…err…pennames :D Peace out my friends :D**

**P.S. Gyaah, you're lucky I might update this early! D:**


	21. Chapter 21

** Hi I have returned. I have nothing else to say. Enjoy~**

**XXXX**

A week pasted and Arthur eventually was discharged from the hospital, his recovery having sped up significantly. The doctors had been impressed with how quickly he was able to get out of the hospital, but that still didn't mean he was able to escape landing in a wheelchair. Arthur hated the thing with all of his being and would do anything to get out of it right away. He felt lazy with how much time he now spent sitting in the wheelchair.

If things were still on normal terms, Alfred would be the one always helping Arthur into the wheelchair issued to him, but because of the past events, Arthur found himself requiring Francis's assistance. It was a bit awkward too—for Arthur that was. Francis was just the seemingly oblivious pervert he was. Every now and then Francis would say something that made Arthur want to hit the guy upside the head. Other times, Francis remained silent as if he were respecting something with silence.

Every now and then during lunch Arthur would catch Alfred looking at him with a forlorn look in his eyes and it almost made the Brit feel bad for the American. He would then eventually smother the feeling out and return to eating; reminding himself that he didn't want anything to do with Alfred anymore. Whenever he would though, his heart would squeeze uncomfortably in his chest and he'd have to wipe away whatever moisture formed at the corners of his eyes.

Today, like a few other days for the past week, Alfred found himself watching Arthur eat his lunch alone at the vacant table. He was currently sitting with Matthew and his buddies, but Alfred never spoke with them while they never spoke with him save for Matthew.

Sighing in misery, Alfred returned his attention to the phone in his hand which was hidden under the table top. He was surfing the internet at the moment. Glancing under the table, having to lean back a bit to do so, Matthew watched Alfred type in words on the keypad to his phone. Alfred had been on the internet quite a bit lately and Matthew began to wonder why Alfred had given it so much of his attention suddenly.

"Hey, you've been on your laptop and phone a lot lately, what's up?" Matthew then asked, glancing at his cousin who grunted in reply.

"Stuff," was his answer and Matthew furrowed his eyebrows at that. He didn't pry any further though.

"Are you looking at porn?"

"Why the hell would I be looking at porn?" Alfred asked, cocking an eyebrow at Matthew. His cousin's expression was so straightforward that Matthew actually believed him. Alfred wasn't exactly the kind of guy to look at such things either, so Matthew let himself believe his cousin. He sent a concerned look at Alfred before returning to the conversation he was having with his friends. Alfred glanced over at Arthur once more before returning to his phone again. Life really sucked right now.

"Mm, hm. Yeah sure…" Alfred muttered, sitting cross legged on his bed, hunched over his laptop as he talked on his cellular with Matthew who was currently going on about himself and Francis like a giddy schoolgirl. What the hell had happened to Matthew? Someone must've slipped something in his drink at one point during lunch—probably that Gilbert guy who used to hit on Matthew a while ago before the Canadian had his whole hockey team beat the shit out of the guy. "Uh huh," he grunted. He was also getting irritated with how Matthew couldn't hear how uninterested he was with the conversation at hand.

"_Man, I'm_ actually_ excited for Valentine's for once," _Matthew went on, Alfred could just imagine the love sick smile on his cousin's face. The guy was so lucky the road was rather smooth for him. Alfred's made a sharp turn into a cement truck apparently. "_I wonder what Francis is planning for that eh?_" there went Matthew's Canadian 'eh' thing. He didn't do it much, but every now and then it'd slip out.

"Mm hm," Alfred hummed. He wondered if Matthew knew what he was doing to him. He was talking about his love life to someone who had a love life that just crashed and burned. It wasn't exactly something Alfred wanted to talk about obviously and hearing how good Matthew and Frenchie had it made his mood go sour.

"_I really hope Francis does something really nice you know?"_

"Yup," Alfred clicked on a link Google had brought up for him.

Matthew rolled onto his stomach, pressing the cell phone to his ear a bit. "Are you all right?"

_"You talking about how happy you and Bonerfoy are is kind of killing me here…"_ was Alfred's response and Matthew mentally slapped himself for letting himself talk so openly about it to someone who was in pain on the subject.

"U-uh—! I'm so sorry Al! I just…it slipped my mind," Matthew muttered. Really. How the hell could something like Alfred and Arthur breaking up, resulting in the latter crashing his plane and nearly dying slip his mind? Way to go Mattie—you really screwed up here. "I feel really dumb right now for letting something like that slip my mind…eh heh…" he bit his lip and thought over whether he should ask what was on his mind. "…What're you going to do for Valentine's? I really don't want you to be like…upset about it and uh…I don't even know how to word this."

"_I'll be wallowing in self-pity of course_," Alfred replied and Matthew could just imagine the other shrugging his shoulders as he said so. Furrowing his eyebrows, Matthew sat up and switched the phone from one ear to the other.

"This isn't the Alfred I know."

"_What do you mean?"_

"The Alfred I know would've gone immediately to trying to win Arthur back. You're just…giving up too easily for my liking," Matthew sternly remarked, balling his free hand into a fist with determination that Alfred should be having right now. "I mean, you should see me," Matthew decided to point that out. "I'm being the determined one and you're just sitting there, giving up on yourself. Normally, I'd be the one wallowing in my own self-pity and you'd go off and be the hero," he went as far as calling Alfred a hero.

"People change."

"Well I don't like this change. Call me stubborn and childish, but this change sucks," Matthew flatly remarked, hoping that it got through the other's thick skull. "Your life will go down the gutter if you continue to act like this Al. This is stupid—giving up is so not heroic," he continued, mentally telling himself to stop before he became Alfred all together. "Now, go do something about it."

"I am," Alfred grunted, a bit moved by Matthew's determination.

"_Hell no you're not!"_ Matthew wailed into the phone and Alfred had to hold it a bit away from his ear to keep it from being damaged. "_You haven't done anything ever since Arthur made you leave his hospital room."_

"Well then what would you do if you and Francis broke up and Francis told you that he didn't want do see you?" Alfred asked, his voice frustrated. With the way Matthew remained silent, Alfred assumed that his question had killed Matthew's 'Alfred-phase'. "Exactly."

"_Shut up, it's not about me or Francis,"_ then came Matthew reply, shocking Alfred a bit. "_This is about you and Arthur. What does this have to do with me? I'm different from you and would've done something different. You would've probably supported me and I'd probably be an emotional wreck—worse than you are right now. I'd be sobbing in my room, but look at you, you're still on your feet and are perfectly capable of trying to rebuild your relationship with Arthur. I'd obviously have more trouble than you giving who I am. So quit blaming other people—blame yourself and get off of your ass and go talk with Arthur."_

"You should be a pep talker or whatever they're called…" Alfred grumbled, smiling a bit to himself.

_ "Why?"_

"I dunno, you're just really good at talking some sense into me whether I want it or not," Alfred shrugged his shoulders, staring down at the laptop screen, still smiling. "Sometimes I don't want it, but keep it up—it helps me a lot."

"_No problem Al. Now are you going to try to see Arthur tomorrow during lunch? Oh, and when you sped off from the hospital that day—did you hit anyone or anything, just don't want the police on your ass."_

"Nah, just hit a few mailboxes, that's all," Alfred chuckled, leaning his elbow on one of his knees. "Had to apologize the next day and had dad pay for it all, though I think I should've."

"_Totally."_

Okay, he really did hate this wheelchair. It was a pain and got in the way of everything, there was almost no benefit to it other than he could make it move faster than his normal speed-walking when he was almost late to class every now and then. They had said it'd be quite a while before he'd be able to get out of it, the earliest being early June. That was a while from then with it being the beginning of February and all.

He glanced up when he saw someone approach his scarcely populated table and narrowed his eyes when he saw that it was Alfred. "What?"

"Can I sit here?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No," every time Alfred continued to ask, Arthur would decline it. He watched the hopelessness become more visible in Alfred's blue eyes and began to feel guilty. He still turned Alfred down and soon enough the other slunk away from the table he was at. Once Alfred seated himself at Matthew's highly populated table, Arthur buried his face in his arms which were rested on the table in front of him. He remained in that position for a moment before sitting back up at pulling out his cell phone.

**[Angleterre]**

**Why is Alfred still bothering me when I clearly told him I don't want to see him?**

He sent his question and got an almost immediate reply.

**[French Pervert]**

**Ah didn't expect for you to text me during school hours ;)**

**[French Pervert]**

**Can't you see that he loves you too much?**

Arthur huffed at the continuation of Francis's reply. What was the bastard thinking? Doesn't he remember that he and Alfred had fought? And Alfred was the one that suggested that they break up in the first place?

**[Angleterre]**

**That doesn't make any sense since he's the one that suggested that we break up in the first place…**

**[French Pervert]**

**You're making no sense.**

**[Angleterre]**

**What do you mean? I'm making perfect sense.**

**[French Pervert]**

**No you're not.**

Arthur let out a frustrated noise and stuffed his phone into his pocket, not wanting to hear any more of Francis's nonsense. He wouldn't even bother with replying. With a sigh, he threw away his lunch and wheeled out of the cafeteria and to his next class. Arthur then remembered that he had an expensive hospital bill to pay.

The first thing Alfred did when he got home was open up his laptop and resume with what he was doing. Matthew had told him to keep trying with Arthur and Alfred had decided that he should follow Matthew's advice since the other seemed to know a lot about life in general. He wasn't sure how Matthew figured out so much, but didn't bother with delving any deeper on the subject. He had a pilot to win back.

Eventually, about four hours later the sun had begun to set and he began receiving a few texts from someone. He wondered who it was and pulled his phone out to be shocked that it was Arthur. Licking his lips, Alfred hesitantly opened the phone to read the messages, the first things he spotted were all of the spelling mistakes. This couldn't be good.

**[Arthur]**

**You fuckng bastrd.u sug-jested tht we brek up. is al your fault.**

**[Arthur]**

**Watt he hell were you thnkng? Bastrd of a pig-you desurv too bee slaughtered**

**[Arthur]**

**And why the hell did you visit me hospital room tht day? Bloody fucktard.**

**[Arthur]**

**Ill half too beet your face in-come here ill do just that.**

**[Arthur]**

**Y'd yoo have to destroy our good time together? Sea? All your fawlt **

**[Arthur]**

**The stupid bastard fucktard that thinks hee haz the rite too be my dad wont even help me pay the bucking bil**

**[Arthur]**

**You owe me a load of pounds bloody wanker pig**

There were three more from Arthur, but Alfred couldn't read anymore. Even though he knew Arthur was drunk right now, he began to question himself. Was Arthur really worth it? He sniffed and watched a drop of liquid hit the screen of his phone before realizing that he had started crying. Sitting up a bit more straight, Alfred squeezed the phone tightly in his hand before letting out a frustrated grunt and throwing the device at the wall. He wasn't sure how much more abuse the thing could take, but was glad it was so durable. He wiped his tears away furiously before staring down at the screen to his laptop, returning to wondering if Arthur was worth all of his time.

Matthew and Francis were sitting atop Matthew's home on the rooftop, gazing up at the stars. Matthew lived just outside of the city just like Alfred and unlike Arthur, so the stars were visible from where they were. It was Valentine's Day and school had been a wreck. Alfred had skipped out for some reason and Matthew had no idea if Alfred's absence was excused and a few people ended up flirting with him. He had explained as politely as he could that he was already taken, pushing down his irritation. He didn't know why he was so irritated, though he did assume that his worry for Alfred fueled it.

"So have you seen Alfred lately?" Francis asked, his voice slightly hushed, not wanting to disturb the silence too much. Matthew sighed and shook his head wordlessly. He had tried to call his cousin, but the other hadn't picked up his calls at all, he hadn't replied to any of his texts either, so Matthew assumed that Alfred wasn't around his phone.

"I'm pretty worried about him and I wonder where he is, dropped by his house two hours ago and still wasn't home," Matthew then spoke up. He sighed once more before smiling and looking at his boyfriend. "So…are we going to do something tonight? It's Friday and I was wondering if you wanted to do anything special," Matthew then asked.

"Ah, I did want to do something and it is pretty warm for a February night no?" Francis answered before leaning closer to Matthew who rolled his eyes, his smile never leaving.

"If you're implying what I think you are, we should go inside to do it," Matthew shoved Francis away from him slightly.

"Well then maybe we should get settled in your room," Francis grinned, glancing slyly at Matthew who turned a bit red.

"Can't that wait? I thought we were going to do something nice, that can be like, the last thing we do for the night—how about dinner? I'm kinda hungry," Matthew rubbed his red cheeks, smiling sheepishly at the Frenchman seated next to him.

"Hmph, fine, you're no fun," Francis pouted before sliding down the roof and swinging into Matthew's room. Matthew followed, having a bit more difficulty in doing so, though he did receive a bit of assistance from Francis. "So, where to?"

"Somewhere nice, that's all I request," Matthew answered as he threw on some more proper clothes for the night. "Man, if Al and Arthur were still together, I'm sure Alfred would take the poor guy to a McDonald's or something," Matthew giggled as he pulled one some socks—sometimes he went barefoot in his shoes.

"That sounds a lot like him," Francis agreed, grinning to himself. "Is that the only fast food restaurant he goes to?"

"Pfft, no way!" Matthew grinned toothily at his boyfriend. "He's all over the place, McDonald's is just his favorite one. He goes to Burger King quite a bit and Arby's, Taco Bell, which is more like Taco Hell, Wendy's, KFC, you name it," he continued.

"Yuck."

"I know right?" Matthew shook his head, smiling fondly. "But that Alfred for ya."

"After dinner, would you like to come over to my place for some wine?" Francis suggested, taking Matthew's hand once the other had finished wiggling his feet into a pair of winter boots.

"I'm underage."

"You've done it before, you can do it again," Francis grinned and Matthew rolled his eyes before accepting the offer, stating that some wine didn't sound so bad at the moment.

Alfred knocked on the door in front of him before stepping back a pace, nervously nibbling at his bottom lip along with twiddling his thumbs behind his back. He really hoped this would all work. As expected, the person he didn't want to talk with answered the door, his appearance having yet to change. "You again?"

"Yes me again," Alfred started. "C-can I—err, may I speak with Arthur?" Alfred asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "It's kind of important," he added, hoping that it'd persuade Arthur's father into letting him speak with him. The guy simply stared down at him for a long moment before grunting and turning around, calling for his handicapped son.

"Who is i—oh dear God, what do you want?" Arthur asked.

Smiling sheepishly, he motioned for Arthur to come out into the hallway. "Could you come with me for a moment?" Alfred then asked, nervously adjusting his glasses even though they'd been adjusted just a few seconds ago.

"Why?"

"Please! I'm like, literally begging you here! Give me a chance Arthur," Alfred's voice was as desperate as he wanted for it to sound too. He mentally pat himself on the back before glancing hopefully down at Arthur. He really didn't like having to look that far down at him—Alfred hoped Arthur would be out of that wheelchair soon even though he broke both legs.

Arthur's shoulders visibly slumped and Alfred could see the internal conflict going on in Arthur's green eyes. "…Fine…" Alfred lit up like a Christmas tree and thanked Arthur happily. Oh how he wished he could hug him like he always did in the past. Unfortunately, that wheelchair got in the way.

The two walked down the hall and to the elevator in silence. Once they reached the bottom floor, they headed outside and Alfred helped Arthur into the passenger's seat before folding up the wheelchair with a bit of difficulty and tossing it into the bed of the truck. "Oh, and could you put this on?" he grinned sheepishly, handing Arthur a blindfold.

"Who do you think you are, Francis?" Arthur questioned, but tied it around his head anyways. "I don't know what you're up to, but it better be worth it."

"Hopefully it will," Alfred answered and started up the truck. The roles have been reversed is seems. Their drive was in complete silence though. Arthur refused to talk and Alfred just didn't have anything to say, so he just settled with driving the Brit to their destination.

When they arrived, Alfred took out the wheelchair, unfolded it and helped Arthur into the thing. Arthur complained about being unable to get in correctly with him being blindfolded and all, but Alfred simply told the other to sit tight for a bit longer. Arthur could feel the difference in temperature when they entered a building and the amount of light seeped into the blindfold, telling him that the place was bright. They suddenly stopped and Alfred placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You can take that off now…"

Arthur did so moodily whilst questioning Alfred why he did that before falling immediately silent. Alfred was standing next to a blue and white biplane that looked pretty new. Since Arthur forgot types of planes, he had no idea what it was, but it did look more capable of performing aerobatics better than his old…what was it again? An old model, that's all he could remember. "Wh-what?"

"It's a Bucker Jungmann," Alfred's voice was shaky from his nervousness. "I-it's one of those that's made for aerobatics or whatever you call it…"

"…Why?"

"Artie, I-I love you like, more than this much!" Alfred spread his arms in a childish way. "I heard from Francis that you were like, stressing out 'cause you lost your old plane and I-I got you this new one," Alfred continued. "You're worth more than this plane Arthur I swear! Th-this thing cost me ninety _thousand_ dollars!"

"Alfred…"

"Can't you tell that I love you? It's—it's like…stuff!" Alfred fumbled, shaking his head. He turned to look at the plane, it was beautiful and he really hoped Arthur would accept it. He heard footsteps blending together as if someone was stumbling over their own feet and turned just in time to catch Arthur who had swung his arms around Alfred. "Arthur?"

"You didn't have to spend ninety thousand dollars on me Al…" Arthur's voice was hushed against Alfred's jacket and he could hear the tears in the pilot's voice. "We would've figured something out sooner or later…"

"With the way you were acting, I don't think we would've gone anywhere any time soon," Alfred muttered, holding Arthur close to him. "It also gives me an excuse to be epically awesome," he continued, nuzzling his cheek into Arthur's hair. "'Cause I'm serious Artie, I love you so much not even however amount of money I have can buy and show you how much I do. I mean, not everyone gets a plane for Valentine's, I had to call in sick to get this thing here on time! And this still doesn't show you how much I'd do for you—remember when I asked you if you could have anything what would it be and you said a new plane since yours is an old model? Back when we were cleaning out my attic and you found that old flag?"

"Yeah I remember."

"I listened to you. Look, I listened to you and you know me. I kinda tend to forget things like that unintentionally," Alfred smiled down at Arthur who was still looking at the distant wall that supported the hangar they were in. "So…I'm sorry for being a dick I think one or two weeks ago. I'm sorry for landing you in that wheelchair and making you lose your plane."

Arthur listened to Alfred apologize before deciding that he didn't want to hear any more of it. He tilted his head up and kissed the other on the lips. Alfred didn't exactly expect it, but was prepared for it nonetheless. When they separated, Alfred grinned down at Arthur. "I'll even pay for the hospital bill?"

"That's a bit much love," Arthur muttered. "I'll pay that off somehow," he continued, hugging Alfred closer to himself.

"…So I guess you accept my apology?"

"I have the second I saw that you bought me a ninety thousand dollar plane," Arthur answered, wiping away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks. Alfred smiled down at Arthur and they kissed once more. "I'm sorry for being mean to you earlier."

"Apology accepted," Alfred smiled before pulling out his phone when he felt it vibrate in his pocket.

**[My New Therapist]**

**YO ALFREDO COM OER N HAVE SOME WYNE. SEXY FRENCH GUY GIVE ME SOME 8D**

Arthur glanced at the screen and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "My New Therapist?"

"It's Mattie, decided to change his name since he gives super good speeches," Alfred snickered. "And it looks like Bonerfoy gave him some more wine," he continued.

**[Alfredo]**

**sory Mr. Williams, jus got arty a nu plain! **

"You're spelling remains atrocious," Arthur grunted as he watched Alfred type his reply.

"But that makes me a fun guy right?" Alfred asked, grinning at Arthur before leaning down to kiss him again. "And did you seriously just get out of your wheelchair and walk over here with two broken legs?"

"More like stumble," Arthur muttered and Alfred hugged him tighter.

"Thanks for doing that even if it hurt you."

"It didn't hurt."

"I love you."

"I love you too you rich git."

XXXX

**Grr, I didn't feel like I executed the Alfred telling Arthur how much he loved him part good enough. I shall now go off to sulk in a corner for my failure. Lol, it also feels kinda cheesy :P So…did you see that coming? I probably wouldn't have since I'm not very observant. So please review, I'd love to hear what you have to say 8D Peace out my friends ;)**


	22. Chapter 22

** I'm back guys :D Are you happy to see me? Lol, hopefully. So, I really don't have much to say except for the fact that my allergies is kicking my ass…it sucks D: So yeah, enjoy :D**

**XXXX**

It was Monday, the weekend having gone by in a whirlwind for Alfred and Arthur. Alfred had Arthur stay over at his place for the weekend, having just made up Friday, which was also Valentine's Day. Since Arthur was now stuck in a wheelchair, Alfred was forced to have the Brit sleep in the guest room that was on the ground level of his home. Despite Arthur continuously telling Alfred that he had his own room, Alfred ended up sleeping with Arthur all three nights they had together before school started Monday. Arthur would never admit it, but he did enjoy snuggling with Alfred after all of the time they spent avoiding each other, just realizing how much he missed being in the American's arms.

"Man, I'm glad nobody bothers us anymore," Alfred grinned as he walked next to Arthur's wheelchair. He still felt guilty about the possibility that it was his fault for his boyfriend landing in a wheelchair. Even though he had voiced that to Arthur, the Brit told Alfred not to worry about it before stating that it was his fault for not listening to Francis. It still didn't quell his guilt.

"Yeah, but we'll still be called names every now and then," Arthur pointed out as he pushed the wheelchair alongside his boyfriend.

Alfred decided to ignore Arthur's slight pessimism. "So are ya going to try out the plane I got you after school today? You didn't fly it at all over the weekend," he asked, glancing down at Arthur.

"Yeah, I'll fly it after school if you drive me to the airport," Arthur answered.

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "And can I ride with you?"

"As long as your stomach can handle the aerobatics yeah," Arthur answered with a roll of his eyes and Alfred whooped excitedly. He thanked Arthur merrily and jumped in front of Arthur so he could kiss the other on the lips in thanks before opening the front doors to the school for Arthur to go through, bowing in a cheesy way as Arthur wheeled the wheelchair he was seated in through the door. "Quit it Alfred."

"Come on, I have all right to be uh…gentlemanly," Alfred grinned, leaning forward from behind the wheelchair and kissing the other on the cheek. Arthur smiled and pushed Alfred away from him.

"Keep your physical affection to a minimum if you don't want them to bother us then," he pointed out. Alfred huffed and gripped the handles to the wheelchair in both hands before insisting that he push Arthur to his first class. The two ended up lightheartedly arguing over whether Alfred should push Arthur to his first class or not while the American did so.

"Oh, hey Artie, what University are you going to?" Alfred then asked when the thought struck him. "I'm going to the University of Minnesota—U of M baby!" Alfred grinned. "You going there too?" he then asked, leaning over the back of the wheelchair so his cheek was pressed against Arthurs.

"No, unfortunately for you I'm not. I'm going to the University of York off in England for English and history," Arthur answered, shaking his head. Alfred's smile fell dramatically and he stood up straight a bit abruptly at the news.

"Wh-what? You're going all the way to England?" Alfred asked, his heart squeezing in his chest at the thought of Arthur going off to England for a few years of college. Obviously he didn't want Arthur to go—it was across the ocean! "Well do you have enough money to support yourself or something?"

Arthur smiled at Alfred's concern. "I have relatives that are nicer than my father thank you very much," Arthur shook his head.

"But that's across the ocean Artie…" Alfred whined, giving Arthur his best puppy-dog eyes he could muster up at the moment. "Why so far away?"

"Auntie wants me to go to the same University as my brothers," Arthur answered. "And don't worry, I'll visit over breaks," he continued, smiling at Alfred who continued to pout. Alfred remained persistent and continued to whine about it and with a sigh, Arthur requested for Alfred to wheel him to his first class, the other huffing and doing so.

"Oh quit acting like a child Alfred, you're going to ruin the rest of our time together if you keep acting like this," Arthur said as Alfred drove him to the Crystal Airport, still a bit moody from having the fact that Arthur would being going to England for college revealed to him not too long ago. The American continued to mumble to himself as he stopped the truck, killed the engine and stepped out. He walked around the front of the truck and helped Arthur get into his wheelchair after unfolding the device.

The two entered the hangar, Alfred having stopped his sulking about half way there. He smiled at the Bucker Jungmann awaiting the two and felt proud of himself for managing to rake up enough cash for it and get it to Minnesota just in time for the end of Valentine's Day. "I still can't believe that you got me that plane Alfred."

"Ha, ha, one epic apology eh?" Alfred grinned down at Arthur who shook his head, smiling to himself as he did so, agreeing nonetheless. Alfred proceeded with helping Arthur out of his wheelchair and into the cockpit, patting the other's bottom as he did so only to receive protests. With a wide grin he heaved himself into the seat behind the pilot's, Arthur tossing Alfred a headset not too long after. "Alright Artie, I'm ready!"

"Alright Alfred," Arthur nodded his head without looking back at the American and started up the engine. Alfred smiled and leaned back in his seat as he heard Arthur talking with one of the people in the radio tower as he drove the Jungmann out of the hangar and onto the runway. Grinning excitedly to himself, Alfred glanced up at the sky. He wondered what Arthur would perform giving that he said he'd be doing some aerobatics earlier and with the way he worded it, it sounded like he was going to do the really flashy ones. Alfred couldn't wait, and before he knew it, they were taking off. "Alright love, I'm going to be rough on this plane since it's designed for aerobatics, so hang on."

It took Alfred a moment to figure out how to function the headset once more. "I'm cool with that man, just throw 'em at me!" he grinned at the back of Arthur's head. There was nothing else after that and Alfred took a moment to enjoy the calm ride because at any moment, giving how high up they were, Arthur could throw the plane into a barrel roll or a corkscrewing nosedive at any moment. Alfred felt so free up in the sky at the moment, his only restriction being the harness that kept him in the cockpit. Arthur was such a lucky guy and he was too for falling in love with him.

His moment of calm abruptly ended when Arthur leaned to the left slightly and the plane began spinning in tight corkscrews, Alfred screaming in a rather unmanly way, having not properly braced himself. If it weren't for the harness, he would've been thrown out of the plane. It was dizzying too even if they completed only four rolls before descending a bit and quickly ascending, the plane tilting backwards, signaling that they were currently doing a vertical loop. Alfred loved the feeling of being upside down last time, but this time, it just felt different and Alfred didn't know why that was. Maybe because last time was a calmer ride and this time was meant to be rowdy.

"You may be handicapped, but damn, you show no mercy!" Alfred wailed into his headset as they nosedived. It felt like his insides were being pressed against his back with how fast they were going. "Shit dude, you're getting close to the ground!" he then panicked, though it was unnecessary for Arthur made the plane perform another vertical loop, this time much larger than the first to they could gain altitude.

His heart was beating so fast Alfred thought that it was going to burst at any moment and it also felt like it was in his throat. They were flying straight for the moment, so Alfred decided to say something to the Brit. He was interrupted though, when the plane flipped completely upside down, Alfred just happening to do that unmanly screech again as he pressed the call button, earning a laugh from his boyfriend in return. "Shut up man! Get this plane back up right!" Alfred cried, for they were still upside down. He was currently pressing the headset to the top of his head and his glasses to his face with both hands, thus the harness being the only thing keeping him in place—and he'd admit it, it was some scary shit.

Arthur flipped the plane back into a proper flying position and Alfred took a deep breath. He didn't know if he should feel sick or not, he definitely wasn't, but he was sure that if he didn't have a strong stomach, he would've been sick by the first stunt. The plane then tilted vertically and Alfred felt like he was going to fall out once more. "_Want to do something scary_?"

"Dude, what the hell else can you do that will scare me? I think I've been through it all!" Alfred could hear his voice shaking. He was scared yes, but he didn't want to stop. It was a feeling he wasn't familiar with, but he'd sometimes get it when he was riding a really wild roller coaster. This, for sure, was better than any roller coaster on earth though.

"_Whatever you say_~" Arthur's voice was so sweet that Alfred swore that the Brit was having fun with torturing him like this. His heart skipped a beat when he felt the plane immediately halt its ascent and began to fall. He then concluded that falling backwards was scarier than nose-diving by a landslide. This was the definition of scary.

The plane began spiraling vertically, tail to the ground as it fell through the sky before being flipped upside down due to wind resistance. Alfred wanted to close his eyes too, but they refused to listen to him, a bit too fascinated with how the earth and sky blended together as they spun. When the plane flipped upside down though, was when he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He felt Arthur jerk the aircraft back into his control, corkscrewing twice before looping skyward once more. By the time he opened his eyes, they were flying straight and it didn't seem like Arthur was going to do another trick.

"Okay dude, never mind everything I said, _that was fucking scary_!" Alfred breathed into the headset, holding a hand over the left side of his chest where his heart was. "I-I mean dude! You basically turned off the engine and we were falling to our deaths! Don't scare me like that!" he continued, his voice high-pitched from the stunts he'd just survived.

"_Aww, did Al just admit to that?"_

"Shut up!"

"_Oh _Angleterre, _did you just seriously do that to poor _Amerique?" came Francis's voice and Alfred looked to his left to see Francis's Pietenpol (1) Air Camper flying not too far from Arthur's new Jungmann.

_"Hush it Francis. He wanted to ride and I warned him ahead of time too. This plane is designed for aerobatic stunts and I decided that I should abuse it a bit,"_ was Arthur's reply. "_That old Stearman wasn't exactly designed to flip and spin like this beauty."_

_ "Oh, how did you get enough money to afford that anyways? It looks like it cost a fortune in your world," _Francis then asked.

"Dude, I totally got it for him for Valentine's! It was a part of my epic apology!"

"_So that's where you were Friday!"_ Matthew jumped in, his voice accusing. "_I was so worried Alfred! Don't do that ever again!"_ his cousin continued and Alfred glanced a small distance behind Francis to see Matthew with a pair of goggles on, in the seat behind the pilot's. He grinned at him and waved, the other returning the gesture.

"Sorry, didn't exactly want to tell you because you might give it away…" Alfred grinned sheepishly even though Matthew wasn't able to see it. "I called in sick though, so don't worry."

"_What, you didn't tell me because you thought I'd leak? No way Al! You can trust me all the way!" _Matthew answered. He was clearly upset that Alfred had kept such information from him. "_Besides, how much did that cost?"_

"Uh, eh heh, ninety thousand…"

"_Mon dieu! _Angleterre_ told me that you were rich, but I didn't know you have access to _that_ much spare money!"_ Francis borderline wailed.

"_That's mostly because of his mother,"_ Matthew clarified. "_So where'd you have to pick it up?"_

"Dude, I drove _all the way to Missouri_," Alfred chuckled. "I mean, I know it's not that far, but it still took a shit load of time too to get the plane here. Had the guy selling it fly it here. Hey Bonerfoy, what're you doin' up here anyways? Gonna show Mattie some cool stunts like Artie did?"

"_Ah, _Matthieu _has been asking about it lately, so yes I am."_

"Prepare yourself Mattie! It's some scary shit!" Alfred laughed, the stunts still fresh in his mind. Call him a masochist, but he really wanted Arthur to do some more stunts just to get that excited yet frightened feeling he had felt.

"_Oh dude, I'm more than prepared, I'm so excited!"_

"Okay Mattie, slow down, didn't know you were such an adrenaline junkie…"

"_Hush up Al."_

Arthur and Alfred flew a safe distance from Francis as the Frenchman performed a few corkscrews, loops and nosedives, combining a few here and there. Francis never did that one trick where Arthur seemingly killed the engine though. "Hey Artie, why isn't Bonerfoy doing that one trick that you did before he interrupted us. Ya know—the one where you fly up and then turn off the engine?"

"_For one, I don't turn off the engine, it just feels that way and secondly, Francis can't do that stunt. He's tried. Wasn't pretty though—crashed and totaled his first Pietenpol,"_ Arthur answered. "_It's scary because it's dangerous."_

_ He was fifteen then, almost sixteen. For once Arthur wasn't up in the sky while Francis was. The Frenchman was currently flying his white and red Pietenpol (2). He was doing a few stunts and was currently working on one that Arthur was considering. He didn't really know the name of it, but it was amazing how the aircraft would just seemingly stop functioning and start falling through the sky before starting up once more. Sometimes pilots would throw in a few corkscrews after recovering to impress the crowd, that's what Francis told him._

_ His silver Boeing Stearman was currently sitting dormant in the hangar, but his attention wasn't on it. He didn't like how wobbly the Pietenpol that was up in the sky seemed to be on its own wings. He suddenly found himself wishing that he had a headset on so he could talk with the wavy haired blond that was up in the sky just to reassure himself that Francis was in complete control of the machine. _

_ Francis had told him that his monoplane was rather old and ready to be thrown out, but that didn't keep the high schooler from acting like a daredevil. He watched as the monoplane fell through the sky before up righting itself shakily before being thrown in a corkscrew that looked unintentional. It took Arthur a moment to realize that the plane was going down, but he eventually did. _

_ "Francis!" he called, reaching for the headset that wasn't on his head, it just being an instinctive move on his arms accord. The plane was pretty close to the houses that surrounded the small airport before turning just enough to the left before crashing into the runway a ways away from the fence that separated the property from the house yards. _

_ Even though the crash was far away, he could still hear the scrape of metal against the pavement and rushed over to the spot as quickly as he could. It clearly took a while to get there, having been on the other side of the field. _

Francis had only broken a rib and burnt his arm in the crash and Arthur soon found himself wondering what his crash looked like. Francis's wasn't anything dramatic, the wing snapped off and it slid a few feet, but that was basically it before the engine caught fire. But with the photos he'd been shown by Alfred Saturday, his was probably Hollywood worthy. He'd have to look it up someday—watch the security videos that had been running on the buildings that day.

"_How bad was Francis's crash?"_

"Just enough to bust a rib and burn his right arm, had to get a whole new plane though," Arthur answered, shaking his head to himself.

"_…Is that why he's left handed? I-I mean, I'm just wondering…"_

Arthur sighed. "Yes, that is why he's left handed, had to completely reteach himself and if you're observant, his right arm's a darker shade of red than his left. Barely. But if you're observant like I said, you'll see it."

"_Hm…will you're crash leave anything permanent on you?" _Alfred then asked, his voice a bit nervous.

"They said I'd have a limp," he sighed once more. "That's all though, just a limp, so I'm fine."

"_Guess you two have battle scars then eh?"_ he could hear the sheepish grin in Alfred's voice and smiled at the thought. Sure. His permanent limp being a battle scar sugar-coated it a bit. "_Are you ever going to compete? Like in air shows?"_

"I've thought about it," Arthur answered. "Not sure about it though."

_"Aww dude, you really should! I'd really love to see you compete against other pilots before you go to England! I looked it up once and there's an air show at the Minnetonka Regional Airport on the ninth and tenth of June (3)! Please?" _

"...I guess I'll look it up when I get home tonight…"

"Yes!"

After Alfred had driven Arthur back to his apartment, he went straight home, Matthew having tagged along, having decided that he would hang out with Alfred for tonight.

They were currently sitting in the living room, snacking on a bowl of popcorn, two large bars of Hershey's chocolate and a large bag of gummy bears. They were also currently watching Sherlock Holmes at the moment, Alfred having bought it not too long ago. "So Mattie, how was your ride?"

His Canadian cousin grinned widely at Alfred. "Amazingly awesome," he then replied.

"Dude, were you scared at all?"

"No way! Why? Were you?" Matthew's grin widened. They were both rather Air-Happy at the moment.

"Yes man! Shit that was some scary stuff there! Did you see that one stunt Artie just put me through? The one where the engine is seemingly turned off or something like that? That's so freaking scary! Don't blame me!" Alfred wailed, though he was grinning just as widely as Matthew was right about now. "But it was so fun too!"

"I know right? Man, I could do that every day," Matthew grinned, sighing as he leaned back in his seat, glancing up at the ceiling in a dreamy way as if he could see through it and up into the sky. "I might have to take pilot's lessons," Matthew laughed as he looked back at the television screen.

"Oh man, same here," Alfred chuckled, shaking his head. "But I think I'd prefer having Arthur fly me," he continued and Matthew nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, it's more of a privilege that way."

"Yeah…hey did you hear about Francis crashing his first plane?" Alfred then asked.

"Yup, I heard about that from Francis himself. I asked him why his left arm was so red and he told me the story," Matthew nodded his head. "I know this one's probably kinda touchy for you, but they just released footage of Arthur's crash Saturday. It's uh…pretty messy."

"Drove by the wreckage the next day and it looked as bad as they said it did," Alfred sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "And Artie did mention something about wondering what his crash looked like as I drove him home…"

"Could show you it sometime later if you want to see it."

"Yeah, I'll check it out once this movie's over," Alfred answered, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Arthur's birthday's coming up," Matthew announced.

"Really? God, I never asked him when his birthday was…damn, I'm such a horrible person," Alfred huffed, raking a hand through his hair once more. "When is it by the way and how do you know?" he continued.

"Francis told me. He's just like that," Matthew grinned. "And it's on the twenty third of April," Matthew answered. "You gonna do something special for him?"

"Due, totally! You gotta help me too—maybe even Bonerfoy," Alfred tapped his chin. "I don't even know what to do! I wanna do something epic!"

"What if Arthur just wants to do something normal?" Matthew questioned, grinning at his cousin. "I mean like, just go out for dinner or something?"

"No way, that's too boring and over used!" Alfred huffed, folding his arms stubbornly. "You have to help me out here," he then pointed out once more after a brief moment of silence. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Sure, I guess I'll help you out…"

XXXX

**(1) Pietenpol Air Camper – I've been spelling it wrong the whole time TT^TT I've been calling it Pientenpol, not Pietenpol…I'm sad now…**

**(2) White and red Pietenpol – Did I ever tell you the color of Francis's current Pietenpol? Well if not, then it's currently black and white (because those ones just look epic).**

**(3) Air show at Minnetonka Regional Airport on 9****th**** and 10****th**** of June – There actually is an air show on that date this year in Mankato Minnesota :D I'm gonna try to convince my mom to let me go :D**

** Lol, aerobatics look so fun, but when you delve deeper into the thought it's almost a bit scary no? But I'm so excited about the pilot's lessons I'm gonna get for my birthday this year :D I'm so excited for that. I want a Bucker Jungmann, but my mom doesn't exactly want me to be doing aerobatics. She doesn't even want me to fly a plane...but she's still getting me lessons for my birthday :D So yeah, better just cross my fingers and hope for the best :D Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**


	23. Chapter 23

** I'm back and getting my ass whooped by illness ;D Not fun, but I do feel better than I did yesterday, so that's a good thing :D Hey~! Himaruya (is that his name…?) made India and I'm happy now. India's a GUY too so that makes me even happier :D You know what that means? If not, you'll figure it out within time ;D Enjoy~!**

**XXXX**

Even though Alfred had made up with him on Valentine's, the American had gone off to sit and chat in a rather secretive way with Matthew off at the hockey table. Arthur found himself being a bit sour about that and hoped that Alfred had a good reason for abandoning him like this. Alfred looked excited as he spoke with his cousin, so maybe good will come out of this since an excited Alfred mostly results in interesting things. Positively interesting things.

He still couldn't help but huff and stare back at his untouched lunch. He jabbed the plastic fork into his salad and stuffed it into his mouth with a childish pout on his face. He glanced up when he saw someone approaching his scarcely populated table. The boy had short hair that was combed neatly and had a dark skin color.

The boy, who Arthur assumed was Indian, seated himself down in the seat next to him since with the wheelchair he was forced to eat oat the end of the table. He grinned and waved a hand. "May I sit here?" he asked and Arthur's assumptions were confirmed.

"No," the boy clearly deflated and fidgeted a bit. It's been a while since Arthur had been put through this scenario hasn't it?

"O-oh…sorry, j-just that all of the other tables are full and I saw you sitting alone…" he smiled nervously. "So…name's David."

"That sounds more Spanish than Indian. Err…no offense or anything," Arthur shook his head. David shook his head with a smile and told Arthur not to worry about it. "Ugh…well since you introduced yourself, I might as well do so as well…" Arthur groaned and stuck his hand out for a handshake. "Arthur's my name," he introduced. Alfred had warmed him up quite a bit apparently. He was still wary of the other asking for a plane ride sooner or later—some had approached him like this.

"So…what grade are you in?" David asked, letting go of Arthur's hand.

"This is my last year here before I move off to England to attend the University of York," Arthur answered and David smiled once more.

"Hm. This is my last year too. But just moved to the states from India—have been here for a week and I've got to say it's pretty nice here…"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm originally from England, but moved here quite a while before you have."

"Yeah, you accent isn't exactly what I would consider fully British…" Davis chuckled nervously. "Uh, not to offend you or anything," he itched at the back of his head. Arthur simply raised his large eyebrows slightly as he opened his carton of milk. He didn't notice it, but it was proven that people could lose their accents if they moved to somewhere new. Not Spanish or French accents and the like, but the accents within the United States and British accents could get lost in the midst of themselves. He was definitely hearing it in his father, but not himself.

"Interesting," he nodded his head before gulping down half of the milk in the carton. "Never really noticed the difference."

"I don't really think you would anyways…have a cousin that lives in the states and just recently she moved from Texas to New York. Called her one day and she sounded weird," David grinned fondly. "Went crazy when I told her that though."

"So, do you do anything interesting?" Arthur smiled down at his food, becoming rather fond of David.

"Well…I fly," David smiled nervously and shrugged his shoulders. Arthur's eyebrows rose once more in interest.

"Oh really? Must be coincidental that two pilots just happen to meet at a nearly empty lunch table," he muttered, deciding to give away that he was a pilot as well. David's smile brightened immediately and he set his fork down, just about to eat his lunch.

"Really? Oh dude, that's awesome—would've never expected that from a guy like you, err, no offense. What model do you fly?" David asked excitedly. "Mom's gonna get me a Stolp Starduster II—we're gonna pick it up tomorrow after school."

"Uh…Buh…sorry, I can't remember—crashed a few weeks ago and have a few memory difficulties," Arthur shook his head and David's excitement turned into sympathy. "Ah, don't worry, I'm fine, that's why I'm in this wheelchair."

"Ouch…yeah, I think I saw an article on that on the internet yesterday…" David licked his lips. "Hah, didn't expect to meet the guy that totaled a jewelry store and a coffee shop…"

"Jewelr—oh God, I'm so glad they're not pressing any charges on me now…" Arthur rubbed his forehead. "That would've cost me a fortune since I'm kind of tight on money…" he continued, letting his arm fall back onto the table with a heavy sigh. "But it's nice to know another pilot other than Francis…" he continued, dropping the subject of his crash.

David sat there a bit for a wordless moment, obviously not knowing who Francis was. "Who's Francis, mind if I ask?"

"My mechanic and his own along with a pilot of a Pietenpol Air Camper," Arthur answered. "He's just…a rather interesting guy is all I can say," Arthur continued with a shake of his head. "And be careful around him."

"Okay," David grinned. The two continued to chat with each other for a good twenty minutes before the bell rang, announcing that lunch was over and that everyone get to their classes. "Oh hey Arthur, do you know where room 354 is? That's my next class…"

"Hm, that just happens to be my next class as well. Why not accompany me to there? We'll be taking the elevator too," he nodded, wheeling himself alongside David, taking the ramp out of the cafeteria. Normally Alfred could accompany him to his next class, but David wasn't so bad, so Arthur made the Indian young man an exception.

From the hockey table, Alfred had happened to look up just as David sat in the seat to Arthur's right—the one he normally sat in when he was eating lunch with Arthur. At first he assumed that Arthur would turn the dark skinned guy down, but David sat in the seat anyways. He was a bit shocked at how easily the two began conversing with each other, David's expressions going from excited, to sympathetic, to confused.

He turned to look at Matthew when he felt the other tap his shoulder to get his attention. "Is something wrong Al?"

Alfred glanced back at the now vacant table, for the bell had just rung. "No nothing wrong Mattie—c'mon, let's go," he grinned, picking up his empty tray and dumping it in the trash before leaving the cafeteria with Matthew by his side. After a bit of walking, Matthew seemed to notice something and tapped Alfred shoulder once more.

"He don't you normally walk Arthur to class?"

"Yup."

Alfred and Arthur arrived at the Crystal Airport. They really didn't have anything to do, but they went on a whim. "Ah yes, Alfred, I looked up the air show that's in a couple of months. It looks interesting and I do think I'll be attending," Arthur announced and Alfred grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"That's awesome dude—you'd dominate," he flashed a toothy smile at his handicapped boyfriend and the other smiled back, returning his gaze to the hangar not too far from them.

When they entered, they found Francis sitting in the cockpit of his plane, tinkering with the control panel, muttering in a frustrated way to himself. "What's wrong dude?" Alfred asked, pulling his hands out of his pockets as Francis looked down at the two.

"Ah, _bonjour mes amis, _it is nothing of great importance, just a small problem in the control panel," Francis grunted, returning his full attention to the problem at hand. He licked his lips and poked the panel with the screw driver that was tightly gripped in his hand.

Arthur watched Francis toy with the control panel to his Pietenpol before pulling out his cellular when he felt it vibrating in his pocket.

**[David]**

**What hangar do you use?**

"David?" Alfred questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he peeked over Arthur's shoulder so he could get a look at the screen to Arthur's mobile.

"Dahveed, is the correct pronunciation Alfred," Arthur corrected as he typed in his reply. He and David had swapped contacts at the end of fifth period, the class after lunch, so that explained why David had a connection with him, though Alfred didn't know that.

**[Arthur]**

**The Crystal Airport.**

"Is he the guy that talked to you during lunch?"

"Yes, that's him," Arthur nodded his head in confirmation.

**[David]**

**Awesome! I think I live close to there.**

Seeing that he didn't need to reply to that, Arthur pocketed his phone as Francis glanced back over to the two, a grin stretching his lips. "Why? Is dear _Amerique _jealous?" his voice was borderlining a coo. Alfred huffed and crossed his arms whilst telling the Frenchman to shut up. Arthur smiled and pulled Alfred into a short kiss.

"Don't worry love," he reassured and Alfred smiled at the gesture and bent over further to hug the other.

Francis lazily swung his legs over the edge of the cockpit before resting his arms on the opposite side of the cockpit, the screwdriver loosely dangling from his fingertips. "Who is this David anyway?" he asked, earning an irritated look from Alfred.

"Another pilot I met during lunch," Arthur answered and Alfred's eyebrows raised. He had assumed that David was asking about the hangar because he wanted to see the plane, but he didn't know David was also a pilot. Francis's eyebrows rose in interest as well, an 'oh?' escaping his lips. Arthur nodded his head. "He just moved in a week ago and is getting his plane tomorrow—needed a hangar, so I told him which one I used."

"Ah it's nice to hear that we're going to have a new face here," Francis smiled. As the two pilots chatted with each other, Alfred, feeling a bit left out, walked over to Arthur's Bucker Jungmann and smiled at it. He still was proud of himself for doing something like this—he obviously probably wouldn't be able to top it, but he really like doing things for Arthur that made him epically awesome. That was why he and Matthew were keeping it a secret from Arthur.

He jumped up into the front cockpit of the plane and took the position Francis was. He examined the control panel, wondering how Arthur understood what was what. The only thing that looked vaguely familiar was the throttle lever since that was something he always saw in movies. He licked his lips and glanced at the dials, still not sure what was what. "And what are you doing up there?" he looked down and smiled at Arthur who was grinning up at him.

"Oh, just wondering how the hell you understand all of this," Alfred answered, gently tapping a dial with his index finger. "The only thing I recognize is this thing," Alfred placed a hand on the throttle lever. Obviously Arthur couldn't see what Alfred was talking about, but the other simply nodded his head.

"Help me up," Arthur demanded and Alfred jumped down to help Arthur into the cockpit. He once more, couldn't help but pat the other's bottom and received an angry squawk from the pilot along with a snicker from Francis. Alfred jumped into the cockpit behind the pilot's and grinned as he picked up the goggles from their spot near his feet. He pulled them on just as Arthur tossed him a headset, his goggles already resting on his forehead.

Arthur drove the aircraft out of the hangar and onto the runway, speaking with one of the guys in the radio tower. Alfred grinned and looked over the edge of the cockpit, watching the ground below pass by quickly, signaling that they'd gained speed. He then watched them leave the ground before looking up at the cloudy sky. He really enjoyed flying and spending time with Arthur.

As they flew, Arthur threw the Jungmann into a few barrel rolls and vertical loops, but that was mainly it for the moment. Alfred, having figured out how to properly use the headset, pressed the 'call' button. "Hey Artie, what happened to all of those really scary tricks?"

"_Do you _want_ me to do those?"_ came Arthur's reply. Alfred grinned and shrugged his shoulders even though he knew Arthur couldn't see it.

"I dunno, they're just super fun—hey Artie, what do you think sex in a plane would be like?"

"_I-I—wha—why do you want to know that_?" Arthur replied, clearly taken aback by how straightforward Alfred was with the topic. Alfred could just imagine the dark blush on the other's face and his grin widened.

"I dunno, some people do it in a car and since we've got a plane I was wondering what it'd be like," he answered.

"_Good God, at least you're not asking about a tractor—it'd be tight since the cockpits are small_," Arthur answered. "_Alfred, you're weird."_

"Thanks you~!" Alfred laughed. "And that makes it more kinky anyways," he continued after Arthur finished a lengthy corkscrew. "Hey, wanna try it out?"

"_Shut up, you sound like Francis_," Arthur replied and Alfred laughed once more. "_Why can't we take the next step in a bed like normal people?"_ he then asked, Alfred able to hear the blush in the other's voice.

"'Cause we're too interesting to be normal people," Alfred answered with a grin.

"_Oh, I didn't expect for you two to be talking about something so vulgar," _came Francis's voice and he heard Arthur stutter heavily. He began snickering as the two continued to talk to each other. "_Aww, has _Angleterre _gotten tired of _moi?"

"_Put a sock in it frog! You're ridiculous, I was never _that_ interested in you!"_ Arthur wailed. Even though the Brit's back was to him, Alfred could tell he was just about ready to hit something. "_You bribed me! That's rather unfair if you ask me," _Arthur continued, throwing the plane into a nosedive, Alfred catching his glasses before they could fully slip off of the bridge of his nose.

"_You wound me," _Francis feigned hurt.

"_I highly doubt that,"_ Arthur grumbled, pulling the plane back into a straight path. _"And are you in the radio tower?"_

_ "No, much to your luck,"_ Francis replied and Alfred could hear the grin in the Frenchman's voice. He didn't know why it was a good thing that Francis wasn't in the radio tower before it dawned on him. Someone that could've been a complete stranger to them could've been listening in on their conversation before Francis jumped in. He facepalmed physically.

When Alfred arrived at the airport the next day after school, he was a bit disappointed to find David talking with Arthur and Francis. There was a rather nice looking red and white plane though and he grinned at how familiar it looked. As he was looking up plane models for his epic apology he had come across something called a Stolp Starduster II. He didn't exactly like it as much as the Bucker Jungmann, but it still was a cool looking plane with that funky rod that connected the two wings of the biplane.

He slapped on a grin as he approached the three pilots. "Hey guys," he greeted, earning the attention of all three of them.

"Oh hi, I'm David," the dark skinned of the three introduced, sticking out his hand for a hand shake. Alfred took it and shook it firmly, introducing himself as well. "It's nice to meet you Alfred."

"Same David."

"Err…that's not how you pronounce it…" David supplied, but Alfred ignored it. "So Arthur, thanks for getting me registered here," David turned to Arthur with a smile, the British pilot nodded his head in response. "Hey Arthur, I'm going to test that plane out," he then announced, smiling as he headed over to his Starduster.

"Oh, hold on a sec, I'm coming too, Alfred, come on," Arthur wheeled over to his plane as well, Alfred following moodily, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Get a headset from Francis," Arthur continued and David nodded his head as he swung himself into the cockpit. Alfred helped Arthur into the cockpit, this time refraining from patting the other's rear before jumping into the cockpit behind the one Arthur was seated in.

The two of them took off one after another. Arthur pulled his plane away from David's so he could perform fancy flips and tricks. Alfred's soon lost himself in the feeling of fear and excitement when Arthur flipped the plane upside down before throwing it into a corkscrew. Alfred assumed that Arthur felt like treating the plane roughly with how dizzy he was getting and how he lost track of which way was up with how many flips and barrel rolls Arthur was blending together. "Whoo, Artie, you're gonna get me high here."

"_Hm, is that a good thing or a bad thing?"_

"I think it's good as long as I don't get any health problems from it," Alfred grinned and Arthur laughed briefly at what Alfred had just said. "C'mon, throw everything you've got at me!" Alfred then yelled.

"_Alright then,"_ Arthur replied and began flying literally vertically. Alfred felt like he was going to fall out of his seat. Arthur then did that one trick that made Alfred borderline panic. He licked his lips and refused to close his eyes, watching the sky and the ground blend together as the plane began spinning horizontally from the wind resistance. Instead of letting the plane flip upside down though, Arthur forced it into a series of rough corkscrews.

They continued downward and Alfred couldn't help but feel nervous once more with how fast they were descending. "Artie don't kill us!"

"_Don't worry Alfred, I've got this all under control!"_ Arthur replied, pulling the plane into a loop in a rather impressive fashion.

"God Artie you're so good at this!" Alfred grinned, opening his eyes that he had unconsciously shut. "I'm sure you'd be like, the best at that air show!" Alfred continued.

"_Wow Arthur, that was impressive—you going to be in the air show?"_ David asked, Alfred having forgotten that the other was also in the air with them. "_I'm going to go see it,"_ David continued and Alfred saw Arthur nod his head."

"_Yes, thank Alfred for convincing me into participating," _Arthur chuckled and Alfred grinned proudly.

"Yup, thank me!" Alfred jabbed a thumb into his chest even though nobody could really see the gesture. "I looked it up and everything—I just know Artie will be super awesome at it!" he continued.

Alfred once more was off talking with Matthew while Arthur and David were sitting at the scarcely populated table, eating their lunch. It was Friday and Francis was throwing a party tonight at his shared dorm room with Ludwig. The German obviously didn't approve of it, but the Frenchman insisted. Obviously Arthur would be dragged off to it, so he was savoring the rest of the time he had. He knew the party would be insane—at least Antonio was going along as well. He wasn't sure about the boy that followed him all over the place, but he was glad that there'd be someone he knew.

"So, are you and Alfred together or something?" David asked as he popped open his carton of chocolate milk.

"Hm," Arthur turned a bit red. "Y-yeah, why do you ask?"

"Oh it's just…is it okay for two uh…guys to be in a relationship like that?" he fidgeted. "I-I mean, you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, I've just…never seen something like that…" he continued.

"No, no, it's no problem, I've just never had this question asked. I mean, I've been bullied about it, but not asked," Arthur shook his head. "It is possible, just not as common," Arthur continued, looking down at his tray of food. "Well actually to tell you the truth, I think I know more guys that are involved with guys than with girls…" Arthur continued, shaking his head. Well yeah, Alfred and Francis were bisexual, but Antonio and Matthew were fully homosexual.

"Okay…"

XXXX

**Mes amis – My friends**

** Never mind about feeling better, I can't stomach liquids now TT^TT I'm super hungry too, but don't know how to make anything good TT^TT Okay, I don't know if India has a human name, so I just gave one. Like Artie said, it's pronounced like Dahveed, not Dayvid. :3 Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**


	24. Chapter 24

** Okay, I didn't update yesterday because it's hard to find time for typing on Sundays for me. So yeah, I'll update on Sundays only if I can. Nobody seems to like David TT^TT I'm not trying to make him a bad guy or something, but okay whatever…Okay, so lately I've been typing/writing a name and then writing/typing the name again (i.e. Alfred said to Alfred), not sure why, all I know is that I've done that like, five times today in the outline "Arthur said to Arthur? WTF? This isn't 'One Times Two is Two' you dummy." TT^TT So if you see it somewhere in here, just dismiss it…It makes me feel horrible. So yeah, other than that, enjoy :)**

**XXXX**

Alfred once more found himself watching Arthur and David talk with each other, smiles and everything. Even though he had chosen to neglect Arthur for this brief period of time to plot, Alfred still couldn't help but feel that Arthur was betraying him. He tried to convince himself to let Arthur make friends, but still found himself disliking David. To top it off, David didn't even know Alfred disliked him so.

He huffed almost childishly and turned his head away from the two, returning his attention back to his cousin. "Oh calm down Alfred," Matthew rolled his dark blue eyes. "You're being ridiculous—let Arthur make friends," he continued, voicing what Alfred was trying to do.

"I'm trying, but I just can't help but feel that David's a…I don't want to say bad guy," Alfred sighed, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He soon found himself watching to two once more before snapping his attention back to Matthew and his lunch. "Guh, what am I doing?"

"Being a boyfriend," Matthew grinned, Alfred huffing and telling Matthew not to call him that despite how true it was. "Now eat your food," Matthew advised, taking Alfred's bun off of his tray.

"Dude, you just stole my lunch!" Alfred whined loudly, snatching the bun out of Matthew's hand and stuffing it into his mouth so Matthew wouldn't make another grab at it. His cousin simply grinned and resumed with eating his own lunch.

Arthur and David were currently talking about the air show that was in June. It was obviously quite a bit of time before it, but excitement normally was stirred long before something happened. "So did you register for the air show yet?" David asked.

"Yes I did just yesterday night—dad doesn't want me to do it though," Arthur shook his head. "Such a troublesome guy," he continued and David sent him a confused look.

"Why wouldn't your dad want you to participate in the air show?" he asked. "I mean, there are safety precautions, but wouldn't he be comfortable with you flying a plane now since you've been doing so for a while? My parents are fine with me."

"Dad's a troubled alcoholic," Arthur deadpanned and David fell silent, a bit shocked at how bluntly Arthur put it.

"Well…what about you mom?" David then asked and Arthur fell silent. David was about to assume that he said something wrong before Arthur finally looked back up from his lunch tray.

"Mom's dead."

"O-oh! I'm sorry!" David quickly stuttered an apology, his gaze falling straight to his tray of a half-finished lunch.

Arthur shook his head. "No, you're fine," he sighed. "You didn't know anyways—get it a lot when it comes to making friends," he continued. It still didn't help that his mood had become a tad sourer when he was forced to tell David that his mother was dead. It never was something easy and like with Alfred, it made his mood go downhill.

"S-so do you have a…like a routine or something for the air show?" David then asked, changing the topic back to the air show much to Arthur's relief. Alfred had pried a bit when he told him. "Like, do you plan on performing a specific order of tricks?"

"I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders casually. "I'll probably do just what comes to mind."

"I think you should make a routine," David grinned. "Like, a super long one of seemingly endless loops and spins and stuff," he continued and Arthur nodded his head, telling the darker skinned boy that he'd think about it. "Oh hey, I have a problem with my plane—do you think you could help me out or something?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's a technical one in the instrument panel," David answered. "Well, something's wrong, I just don't know what."

"Ah, Francis is your man for that one. He's our mechanic remember?" Arthur reminded. "Ask him and he'll help you out with it—despite the way we act towards each other, he's the best mechanic I could ask for," he continued. "…Just don't tell him that."

David laughed. "Yeah, I won't tell him then," he grinned, laughter dying down. "But yeah, thanks—oh hey, I could drive you to the hanger after school," he suggested hopefully.

"Sounds good," the pilot nodded his head. "Yeah, I'll tell Alfred I'm going to the hangar with you then after school—at the front of the building?"

"Yep!"

With the help of Francis (who had surprisingly refrained from do anything to him as he did so), Arthur was currently sitting in the cockpit to his plane, legs hanging over the edge in a lazy position. He was currently taking in the details, Francis having worked on it a bit in the gap of free time in between his classes while Arthur was stuck in school. The control panel now looked a bit shinier than when he originally received the plane and a few things were touched up here and there. He then looked over to his right and rolled his eyes when he caught a glimpse of a British flag sticker slapped carelessly onto the bottom wing for it was crooked. He looked to his left and there was another one too. "You could've been a bit neater with those stickers Francis."

Francis peeked his head up at him from his spot inside of David's Starduster, goggles over his forehead and a screwdriver in his hand, a granola bar sticking out of his mouth. With a wide grin, Francis removed the granola bar from in between his teeth and set the screwdriver in his lap. "But I found them for you dear _Angleterre_."

David cocked his head to the side, slightly leaning on the body of his plane. "Is that even legal?"

"Nah," Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't gotten in trouble for it yet," He looked down at the throttle lever and snorted. "Are there any more flags I should know about?" he asked, inspecting the small American flag sticker that was wrapped around the lever.

"Nope, those are it," Francis grinned at Arthur from his spot in the Starduster's cockpit.

"There better not be a French flag somewhere on here," he continued, searching the cockpit for a French flag anywhere.

"I'm being honest Arthur!" Francis laughed.

"I'll still be looking out for one," Arthur grinned himself, resting back on the wall of the cockpit, one arm lazily hanging out. Francis chuckled and the three pilots eventually fell into a silence, the only sound being Francis opening another granola bar along with the tinkering of his tools as he worked on David's plane.

Arthur began to wonder what Alfred was doing right now. He had looked pretty bummed when he announced to the American that David would be driving him to the airport after school. The pilot had expected to meet Alfred at the airport, but the American had yet to arrive. With a sigh, he rested his head on his arm, getting into a bit more comfortable position on the cockpit before wondering why Alfred had to be so worried about David. He was just making friends…

He looked over at the two when Francis announced that he fixed the problem in the control panel. "That'd be one hundred US dollars young sir," Francis grinned at the horrified look that David adopted and laughed, clapping the darker skinned boy on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm joking around with ya."

"You might as well have given him a heart attack," Arthur rolled his eyes. David smiled sheepishly and jumped into the cockpit of the Starduster.

"Wanna fly?" he offered and Arthur smiled back at David, pulling his legs into the cockpit and up righting himself. "Sure thing," he answered and started up his plane, the sound of the Stolp Starduster II starting up as well.

"One minute guys, I'll join you!" Francis announced, tossing his tools into a tool box lying on the floor not too far away and pulling his goggles down so that they were covering his eyes. He grabbed a headset on the way as David and Arthur placed headsets on their own heads.

Alfred glanced up at the sky, hands stuffed into his pockets. Despite it being the end of February, it was still pretty damn cold—still felt like the middle of December. He watched the three planes maneuver around each other, the Starduster doing nothing interesting while the Pietenpol and the Jungmann weaved around each other as if they were make believing a dogfight. Knowing Francis and Arthur, they probably were. He couldn't help but feel a bit left out.

He sighed and tried to imagine what it'd be like to be up there with Arthur, dogfighting Francis in their own make believe world. With the tight twists and turns they were making, it probably would make Alfred dizzy. He looked down at his boots before looking back up just in time to catch Arthur and Francis avoid a collision, turning their planes onto their sides to that they wings were pointing vertically. He grinned at his next thought—he wondered if they were getting any lip from the guys in the radio tower.

"_I've got you now Kirkland!" _Francis called into his headset, Arthur grinned competitively when his 'opponent' said that. The Pietenpol was currently behind him and he began a series of maneuvers in an attempt to shake the Frenchman off his tail.

"Tch, like hell you do!" and eventually, giving that his plane was more agile and modern, Arthur was able to switch their positions, the Jungmann now tailing the Pietenpol. "I would've shot you out of the sky by now!"

"_In your dreams!" _Francis pulled his monoplane into a steep nosedive, flipping it upside down, Arthur following not too far behind. It was obvious that the Jungmann had the upper hand, but the Frenchman remained persistent and continued to 'fight' against Arthur, yelling nonsense (in Arthur's point of view) into his headset.

They gradually ended their role playing mainly because they were running low on fuel. Francis landed first, followed by Arthur and finally David who had stayed on the sidelines the whole time, practicing corkscrews, loops—the basics.

Alfred approached Francis and Arthur as David's Starduster pulled into the hangar before the engine died down. The Indian young man jumped out of the cockpit. "Hey guys," Alfred greeted specifically Francis and Arthur.

"Oh hey!" David greeted the American, Alfred huffing a bit at the intrusion. He was also being ignored by Francis and his boyfriend for the two were bickering over who won the dogfight. David and Alfred simply listened to the two before forming their own opinions. "Francis, I think Arthur won…" David butt in, grinning sheepishly.

Despite who it was, "I agree with him," Alfred jabbed a thumb in David's direction.

"Arthur's plane is obviously more flexible than yours Francis," David pointed out smartly. Alfred mentally huffed for not sounding smart himself—at this rate, he'd never be able to compete with David. The guy was a pilot too, he wasn't.

"Hah, you're outnumbered frog," Arthur grinned, jabbing the other in the ribs with an elbow giving that his wheelchair achieved the perfect height for the action. Francis pouted briefly to himself before starting up a conversation with David.

Thankful that David's hands were full with Francis, Alfred approached his boyfriend with a smile and the two hugged briefly. "How're you?" Arthur asked.

"Awesome as always of course," Alfred grinned toothily. Arthur nodded his head with a 'good' before turning his attention to Francis who was talking about a few tips for the more advanced aerobatic tricks. The Brit decided to jump in and once more, Alfred felt left out. He gloomily pulled his phone out of his pocket when he heard it playing _O Canada_. "Hey Mattie."

"Whoa, dude you sound like Liberty just died…she didn't did she?"

"No, but she _is_ old," Alfred smiled a bit wistfully at the thought. "I'm just being neglected right now," he continued and heard a light chuckle from Matthew.

"Don't worry about it Alfred, it'll eventually wear off," Matthew advised and it took Alfred a moment to understand what his cousin had just told him. "Well, I kinda need you over here right now," he continued, changing the subject. "We're renovating the house—moving furniture and all of that good stuff and mom's not home at the moment—could you come over?"

"Sure thing cousin-bro," Alfred grinned the best he could.

"Awesome, see you here."

"'Kay, bye," he shut his cellular when Matthew said his goodbye before stuffing it into his pocket. "Artie, gotta go help Mattie move some furniture," Alfred announced and earned a nod of the head from Arthur. He turned with a quiet goodbye, the three pilots obviously unable to hear it before moping out of the hangar. He didn't want to go, but then again, he did, so he would have to thank his 'therapist' once he arrived at Matthew's home.

The three pilots talked into the night and eventually Francis had to leave, Ludwig calling him for dinner…more like threatening him to come or else he'd have to go find something from a fast food chain—and he knew how much Francis hated fast food. With a quick goodbye, he tossed his goggles into the cockpit of his Pietenpol, grabbed his plastic bag full of granola bar wrappers and hurried off, whistling _La Marseillaise_ loudly.

Currently David and Arthur were getting ready to leave. David was to drive Arthur to his apartment, having earned the location during fifth period much like Arthur's contacts. He awkwardly helped Arthur into the passenger's seat before folding the wheelchair with a bit of difficulty. With a nervous laugh once he finished, he muttered something and closed the door, circling around the front of the rental car before seating himself in the driver's seat. Starting the truck, they drove off.

It took him a while and a few wrong turns before they finally made it to Arthur's apartment. David seeming mortified with his slip ups as Arthur tried to reassure the Indian that he was okay and that people make mistakes. Eventually David unfolded the wheelchair with as much difficulty as folding it up before helping Arthur into it.

"Ugh, I can't wait to get out of this thing," Arthur shook his head. "That isn't for a while though," he continued.

"H-hey, sorry if I sound awkward, but what is it exactly like to be in a relationship with another man?" David asked, blushing at his words along with fidgeting a bit. Arthur was a bit thrown off at the sudden question and coughed awkwardly.

"Uh, why do you ask?"

"W-well, I'm kind of confused and all…I mean, I like girls, but I like guys too…" David's gaze fell to the snow covering possible ice on the sidewalk.

"That means that you're bisexual," Arthur pointed out, a small blush surfacing. "Liking both genders, uh, Alfred and Francis are bisexual too…"

David remained silent and Arthur didn't know if he was seeing things or not, but looked even a bit guilty. "Hey what's wrong?"

"C-can—may I k-kiss you?" David asked, turning a dark shade of red.

Thrown off once more at the sudden request, Arthur felt his cheeks warm up as well. "Uh—wh-what—why do you want to?"

"I don't even know why I want to…" David muttered, gaze falling to the snowy ground once more. Arthur thought over it and the first thing that came to mind was how heartbroken Alfred would be. Clearly he shouldn't since he was in a relationship with Alfred at the moment and he'd be cheating if he let David do as he pleased even if he was timid.

"Well, I shouldn't because of my relationship with Al—"

"A-Alfred doesn't have to know!" the darker skinned boy blurted desperately. "I-I-I guess I just want to know…you know?" he stuttered out. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, still hesitant with what he wanted to do next. As long as he didn't tell Alfred that they'd kissed it wouldn't hurt anyone right? Plus this would be the only thing they'd do anyways so it wouldn't get out of control…

"Just…make it quick."

"Dude, thanks again for helping me last night," Matthew sighed, raking a hand through his wavy hair as he seated himself next to Alfred the next day during lunch.

"Ha, ha, dude I think you threw your back out trying to move that couch with us," Alfred snickered and Matthew sent him a pained glare, one hand rubbing at his back that was still sore from yesterday's renovations.

"Ugh, don't remind me, it still hurts…" Matthew uttered before continued to mutter incoherently to himself. Alfred changed a glance over to Arthur and David. Normally they talked rather animatedly, but today, they seemed silent and even reserved. A bit confused, he began to think over scenarios that could've occurred last night in his absence. Did David pry about his mother? Maybe. Did David accidently offend Arthur? Nah, Arthur doesn't get offended easily. Did David—

…Maybe.

…Nah, it was probably Arthur's dad. The guy was a total killjoy and probably scared David, either that, or the guy decided to ban Arthur from hanging out with David. No matter how appealing that sounded (yet totally not heroic), the guy obviously had no right to do so now that Arthur was eighteen. The guy was probably drunk and thought that Arthur was seventeen or some age younger than eighteen. Yeah. That was probably the case.

**[Amerique]**

**hey bonerfoy! Txt i lov u in french**

His response was immediate.

**[Bonerfoy]**

**What? Why in the world do you want me to?**

**[Amerique]**

**im tring 2 be epic here**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**How so? Are you with Angleterre?**

**[Amerique]**

**unfortuntly not :( n NEways hed hit me 4 doing tht XD jus tel me**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Je t'aime.**

**[Amerique]**

**i thout french n spanish wer suposd 2 sound similr**

**[Bonerfoy]**

**Nor in all ways mon ami.**

Seeing no need to reply to that, Alfred stuck his mobile into his pocket and jotted the French words down on a piece of paper. "Yo Mattie, could you get Kiku for me?" he leaned over to his cousin who huffed and stood up, wincing at his sore back, sending him a look that read 'I'll get back at you somehow' before heading off to find the Japanese boy.

Matthew soon returned, Kiku nowhere in sight. "He's busy right now," Matthew grinned.

"Okay, busy as in Heracles? Or work?" Alfred asked and Matthew looked thoughtful.

"Uh…kind of both," Matthew answered, his grin returning for it had disappeared when he began thinking over his answer.

Alfred snickered at what he was going to say next. "Hey Mattie, how do you say I love you in Canadian?" he asked and the blank look he received from Matthew was precious. He didn't know why—it was just something that made him wish he had his camera with him. Either that, of pull out his phone and snap a photo, but was unable to do so when Matthew began talking once more, the blank look turning into one of slight concern.

"Uh, Alfred, you do know that there is no such thing right?"

"Yeah, I was just messing with ya!" Alfred grinned, throwing an arm around Matthew's shoulder as the other sat down in his seat. "But that would be awesome if there was such thing as a Canadian language though…"

XXXX

**Nuu, my laptop's gonna die, but I don't feel like getting up to plug it in D: Last chapter was so hard to get out for some reason…oh well, that's the past ;) This one was actually pretty easy to type. M'kay, so FF was being a bully and won't let me log on just as I finished typing this TT^TT Apparently it won't accept the connection or whatever the 'Diagnose Problem' option said and I was like "Oh, that's just cruel…" I mean, the way it was worded just…cruel…So yep, please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**


	25. Chapter 25

** Hola, I'm back ;) Ugh, I spent so much time bent over my laptop whilst drawing something for DA and now I'm aching from such a bad choice TT^TT Oh well, can't complain too much. Enjoy ;)**

**XXXX**

Alfred loved this day for one main reason.

"Ow! Alfred what the—?" he got to pinch people for the hell of it. He grinned toothily at Arthur, having decided to sneak up on him during passing time to fourth period. "Why'd you do that?"

"Dude, you're not wearing green so you get pinched on St. Patrick's Day!" Alfred announced before tugging at the bottom of his green T-shirt. "And look here, I'm wearing green so you can't—Ow! Artie you can't do that!" he explained before being pinched by Arthur roughly on the thigh. Alfred continued to whine to Arthur who groaned as he continued to wheel himself to his next class, Alfred following him and complaining for complaining's sake.

Once Alfred found whining boring, he changed the subject. "Hey, you gonna do anything specific for the air show?" he asked, grinning. Even though it was in June, it didn't keep Alfred from being excited about it. "Dude, it's gonna be so awesome! Like, you're going to whoop their asses!" he laughed loudly.

"I'm going to try to make a routine for it," Arthur answered Alfred's question just after he began talking about how excited for the air show he was. "I'm going to start today after school."

"Cool! Can I come with?" Alfred asked hopefully, clasping his hands together as they stopped in front of the classroom Arthur was to enter.

"What's keeping you?" yes, what was keeping him? He didn't have to ask anyways.

"Thank you Artie~!" Alfred bent down and hugged Arthur happily, the latter simply smiling and hugging back briefly before separating from the American. "So I'll drive you to the airport then?" he asked and Arthur nodded his head as Alfred opened the door for him. "Alright, bye Artie~!" he grinned, waving quickly as the other entered the classroom, turning to look at Alfred over his shoulder as the American excitedly left, waving a hand.

Even though the thing that had happened in between them not too long ago had made them a bit awkward with each other, Arthur and David still sat at the same, scarcely populated lunch table during said meal. "H-hey Arthur?" the latter asked, leaning closer to the British pilot who hummed in response, signaling that he was listening. "Why do people keep pinching me?"

"Oh, it's St. Patrick's Day," Arthur waved a hand as if it were no big deal—which it was. "Today's the day where all of the immature band together and terrorize other people by pinching them just because they're not wearing green," he continued.

"Why is that?"

"I don't even know—they themselves probably don't even know either," Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "For all we know, they could be doing something that relates to something really cruel in the past but whatever," he continued bluntly, clearly showing his distaste for the time of year. He then picked at his food with a small huff, muttering under his voice as he did so.

"Um…okay," David itched at the back of his head and sat up straight once more. "Is it an American holiday? Like the Fourth of July?"

"Not sure about that either," Arthur shook his head. He and David then looked up when someone wearing a red, long sleeved shirt that was obviously too long, seated himself next to the two.

"Heard this was the pilot's table," he grinned toothily. "Name's Wang Yao, uh…call me Yao, not Wang," he continued with an introduction.

"Well…I guess you heard right since Arthur and I are pilots…" David answered, looking at Arthur in a confused manner. Arthur crossed his arms at how easily he was given away, but brushed it aside quickly. He looked the Chinese boy up and down, recognizing him as the boy in the front row in his English class. Since Arthur was seated behind him though, all he knew was that Yao had a pony tail—he hadn't really seen his face, which was why he didn't recognize him right off the bat.

"Ha, ha! I thought so!" Yao's already wide, toothy grin became even larger. "Me too!" _that_, Arthur didn't expect. "I've got an NAF N3N-3! And it's _not_ yellow!" he continued in a prideful way.

"Oh wow really? I almost got one of those," David pointed out, a smile stretching at his lips.

"So what do you fly?" Yao then asked David specifically, leaning forward in interest. "You're the guy with the Jungmann at the Crystal Airport right?" he then searched for confirmation, turning his head to Arthur who nodded his head. Yao grinned. "Dude, you've got some amazing skills, you gonna be in the air show in June?"

"Yeah, actually, I am," Arthur sighed as if it were something wrong. He wondered if this table would actually turn into a 'Pilot's Table'.

"I fly a Stolp Starduster II," David answered Yao's earlier question. "It's brand new," he continued and Yao returned his attention to the Indian teen seated across from him. "Oh, excuse me, I'm David," he stuck his hand out and the two shook hands. "And like you heard earlier, that's Arthur," he then smiled at Arthur who nodded his head.

"Cool, yeah I think I heard you name a few times at the airport—my plane's in a different hangar," Yao said, finally turning his attention to his lunch that he had yet to eat. "Man, this is great, I've never really known any other pilots," Yao continued.

"There's also a guy named Francis you could get along with—he's our mechanic," David announced and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Francis is someone you'd want to think about whether you want him to be your friend or not Yao, trust me," Arthur pointed out and the Chinese boy grinned while David sent him a confused look—having not seen the perverted side of Francis yet.

"Sup guys," the three looked up to see Alfred approaching their table.

"Whoa dude, back off, this is the pilot's table!" Yao announced, a wide, dominating grin stretching at his lips. "If you don't fly a plane, then you have no chance of sitting here!"

"Oh calm down Yao, he's one too," Arthur lied, Alfred smiling thankfully while David's eyebrows rose in interest.

"He—"

"Shh!" Arthur hushed before David could get anything else out while Yao sized Alfred up. Luckily for Alfred, the big leather jacket he wore helped out his physical appearance.

"So Alfred," Yao started. "What plane you fly?" he grinned, clearly interested while Alfred was clearly dumbstruck at what to say.

"U-uh—"

"Boeing Stearman," Arthur cut in before Alfred could slip up. "Though he just sold it," he continued, smiling at Alfred who once again, gave him a thankful grin before turning back to Yao with a 'yeah totally forget the model my plane is all the time'.

"Cool, I've got an NAF N3N-3," Yao announced and luckily for Arthur, Alfred's expression lit up in recognition.

"Oh dude, those are so cool! I almost got Artie a blue one back in February, but the Jungmann was cooler," he grinned and Yao's eyebrows shot up rather comically. The Chinese boy stuttered a bit, trying to form a question as to what Alfred meant by 'got'.

"W-wait, you _got_ him a plane? Like, legit right?"

"Uh yeah…?" Alfred cocked his head to the side. Apparently being rich had become normal for Alfred and he soon found it odd that Yao was making such a big deal over it while Yao was baffled at how blunt Alfred seemed. "Bought one for him for ninety thousand."

"O-out of your pocket…? N-no, no, that's impossible," Yao laughed to himself. "That probably came out of a bank account…"

"What? No way, I totally managed to rake up _that much cash_ in a few weeks with the help of my mom," Alfred grinned, suddenly realizing that ninety thousand dollars cash, out of one's pocket wasn't the norm around these guys, David also gaping at Alfred's words. "I'm freaking rich!"

"Then why are you here? You should be at some prestigious, expensive school or something!" Yao gasped. "My family's got no money at all! We're barely able to keep our house and I'm about to lose my plane!"

"Ugh, I'm poor too, don't worry," Arthur grunted, raking a hand through his hair.

"Same…" David rose a hand lazily, looking defeated.

"Alright, it's decided then!" Yao suddenly barked, a seemingly spontaneous grin stretching at his face. "This is the _poor_ pilot's table!" he then pointed a finger at Alfred who cocked an eyebrow at it. "Be gone!"

"Oh just shut up already," Arthur grunted, tugging Yao back down into his seat. The Chinese boy simply grinned at Arthur before turning back to the other pilot and 'pilot'. He figured that Yao wasn't such a bad guy—energetic, but not so bad.

It was finally starting to warm a tad now that it was March, though not enough to keep you from wearing your thick winter coat and melting all of the snow. "Ugh, thanks for covering for me there," Alfred thanked for what was probably the seventeenth time that day. The two were currently approaching the hangar, Alfred pushing the wheelchair since the snow was still kind of deep. "I went totally blank when he asked me that…"

"No problem Alfred, stop thanking me," Arthur rolled his eyes. "It just came to me okay?"

"Yeah sure…ha, ha, I still think it's kinda funny how you used your old plane as the cover up and then made an excuse that I just sold it—hey, that 'money' I got for selling it probably contributed to you Jungmann eh Artie?" Alfred grinned, looking down at Arthur. The Briton simply smiled and shook his head at Alfred's idea.

When they entered the warm hangar, they found Yao, Francis and David already there, David appeared to be sleeping in the cockpit to his Starduster while Francis and Yao were talking to each other, Yao having apparently moved his plane into the hanger theirs were in. Francis was inspecting Yao's NAF N3N-3, talking about how he liked this one instead of the normal yellow ones. The Frenchman then looked up and spotted the two blonds approaching them, a grin stretching at his face. "Ah~! _Bonjour_ _Angleterre_, I see that you've been making friends rather quickly no?"

"It appears so," Arthur answered as Alfred stopped him next to his blue Jungmann. "Did he introduce himself?"

"Yup," Francis nodded his head before asking Yao if he could get a look at the plane from inside the cockpit. The Chinese pilot nodded his head and the mechanic jumped in, grinning at the control panel whilst looking like a kid in a candy shop. The NAF N3N-3 was also a biplane with an open cockpit much like Arthur's and David's. "I love it~" Francis grinned. The guy really loved checking out new planes as much as checking out people that appealed to him. "Makes me want to sell my Air Camper…"

Alfred grinned down at Arthur once more. "Bonerfoy really likes planes I guess?"

"Yes he does, kind of like a new video game to you, he loves sitting in new planes he's never seen personally yet," Arthur nodded his head.

After a bit of inspection and drooling over Yao's plane, Francis jumped out and approached the couple, a toothy grin present. "_Angleterre_, you're not wearing green~"

"If you even dare, I'll have to kill you with a piano wire," Arthur bluntly threatened and Francis began laughing while Alfred snickered to himself over Arthur's weapon choice.

"Oh, and Francis, I've been having a problem with my engine lately!" Yao announced, Francis halting his advancing on the handicapped pilot.

"Coming," he sighed and turned around, winking at Arthur over his shoulder. The Brit simply rolled his eyes before looking up at Arthur who was still grinning down at him.

"He's with your cousin Alfred, shouldn't you be a bit more concerned?"

"No way, despite it all, I actually trust the guy," Alfred pat Arthur atop his head. "Mattie used to be so shy and still kind of is when it comes to meeting new people," the American continued.

Arthur nodded his head. "C'mon, help me up into this thing," he then requested and Alfred helped Arthur into the blue and white Jungmann. Arthur pulled on his goggles and put a headset on before glancing slightly down at Alfred, a large eyebrow cocked. "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh yeah! Sorry," Alfred's grin turned into a sheepish smile before he swung himself into the cockpit behind the pilot's and pulled on the pair of goggles sitting in the seat. "Headset please," he grinned, getting the object carelessly thrown at him. His grin widened when he put it over his head. "And what would've happened if I didn't catch that?"

"You know better," Arthur said, though he didn't look over his shoulder at the American accompanying him. "Alright, I'm going to try to string together a whole bunch of tricks, so there's going to be no break," Arthur warned as he started up the engine.

"Dude, I can do this," Alfred answered with full confidence. Arthur hummed in response and began to drive the aircraft out of the hangar.

"Alright! Your engine just had a bit of damage from that overheating you told me about," Francis grinned triumphantly as he looked down a bit proudly at his work. "It should be working like new now," he continued, stepping back from the plane after closing it up.

Yao smiled thankfully. "Awesome, now I wanna fly this baby! Arthur's already beat me to the sky!" he continued, jumping into the cockpit and struggling with pulling the goggles over his head with how hastily he was moving.

David had been woken up by the sound of Yao's plane coming to life, having woken up a bit before when Arthur's did. "Hm?" he pulled his legs into the cockpit and watched Yao, struggling to get the headset in a comfortable position as he piloted the NAF N3N-3 out of the hanger. With a smiled, he searched for his goggles which were resting by his feet. "Alright, all systems go," he pulled them on, feeling like that would've been something Alfred would say.

He pulled the plane out of the hangar, Arthur's just leaving the ground and Yao's currently taxing, waiting for the men in the radio tower to give him the positive signal.

"They could've waited for me…" Francis grunted as he threw his gloves over to his pile of tools since the toolbox had been knocked off of the table it was sitting on. He was glad Alfred came into Arthur's life because if that wasn't the case, he wouldn't be flying his plane as often as he had planned to back when Arthur was what some would call a 'lone wolf'. "Alright, I'll meet you guys in the air," Francis spoke into his headset.

"_I'll shoot you down before you can even leave the runway frog."_

_"__Ha, ha! See ya then Bonerfoy__!"_

_"What does Arthur mean by shoot you down?"_

_ "Francis and Arthur were faking a dogfight a while ago, I didn't participate though."_

_ "Oh, dude! That sounds amazingly fun! Let's all have one then! I call dibs on being a PLAAF (1) pilot!"_

_ "Oh dude, Artie, let's be the U.S. Air Force!"_

_ "Shut up Alfred, we're going to be the Royal Air Force—pilot gets to choose."_

_ "I'm going to be in the IAF (2) then."_

Francis grinned as he listened to the four already in the air talking excitedly to each other. While they were at it, he might as well be the Armée de l'Air (3). He jumped into his plane and stared down at the control panel for a brief moment, pondering over it he actually should sell this old thing and get a new one.

Arthur watched Francis's Pietenpol from high above getting ready to take off. He then looked back up at the sky spreading out in front of him. He loved flying.

"_Hey Arthur, before Francis comes up, I just want to apologize again for…that…"_ came David's voice on the headset he wore. With a sigh and a visible slump of his shoulders, he pressed his thumb into the call button so he could reply.

"Remind yourself that Alfred's here—and don't fret over it," he said.

Alfred cocked his head a bit at the conversation David and Arthur were holding, becoming a bit concerned. "Uh…Artie, what are you talking about?" he wondered, leaning forward a bit.

There was a brief moment of silence before Arthur answered. "_I'll tell you on the way home."_

"_Why do you guys sound so morbid? Come on! Francis is already up here, let's get this party started!" _Yao's voice interrupted.

Arthur grinned, preferring the thought of a fake dogfight over talking about something that could lead into an argument with Alfred. He abruptly threw his plane into a huge loop and when they were finally flying straight again, they were behind Yao's biplane. "I've got you now."

"_Ha, ha! Catch me if you can!_" and the chase was on. In the midst of it all, an 'amazing' idea struck Alfred like a pile of bricks—maybe he, Francis and Matthew (since he's good with technology) could hook up some gear to the planes and make it kind of like laser tag, just more dogfight like.

"Hey Artie! Maybe Francis, Mattie and I can rig up some equipment on the planes so that we can simulate a real dogfight!"

"_HOLY SHI—ARU! Amazing idea American!"_

"My name's Alfred!"

"_Sure whatever! You really should Alfred!"_ Yao piped excitedly. His eyes were probably sparkling in sheer happiness at the current moment with how ecstatic he sounded over the headset. "_Do that now and get it finished before April!"_

"Dude, I can totally do that with the help of Mattie!"

"_Who's Mattie?"_

"_His name's Matthew,_ Amerique_,"_ came Francis's voice, though he did sound like he approved of Alfred's idea. "_But yes, that idea sounds interesting."_

"Hah, I'm amazing aren't I?"

"_Don't make his ego any bigger than it is," _Arthur sighed in fake exasperation. "_But do get it done so we can test it out."_

Yao basically fell out of his plane, whistling in an impressed way as he pulled his goggles over his head, hair a huge mess. Alfred snickered at Yao. With the way he was moving, one could easily mistake him for a tipsy guy, though not yet hammered from drinking. "Dude~" Yao started, plopping himself heavily in a chair that was pulled up to the table that had some of Francis's tools splayed out on. "That was amazing…"

"Yeah, if it hasn't been invented yet, let's make a competition out of Alfred's game—spread it to the rest of the world," David grinned, seating himself in the second seat.

"Whoo~! Artie totally kicked your guy's asses!" Alfred grinned, jumping out of the cockpit of the Jungmann before helping Arthur out after unfolding his wheelchair. "Yao and Bonerfoy were a bit good too though."

"India will get revenge on you America, England," David joked and Alfred laughed despite not really liking the guy. Okay, maybe he'd been making him a bad guy in his mind while he actually wasn't too shabby.

"Ha, ha! Did you hear that _England_?" Alfred grinned, clapping Arthur on the shoulder.

"Whatever you say _America_," he rolled his eyes, putting emphasis into the country name much like Alfred had done. Alfred simply laughed and hugged Arthur, pressing his cheek into Arthur's blond hair.

Yao huffed. "Man, I wish I had someone nice. All I have is a stalker…"

"What?" Arthur's eyebrows rose a bit, concern in his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"This guy just keeps following me and is really creepy and I tell him to leave me alone, but he doesn't. Ugh, he kind of scares me too," Yao shivered, rubbing his arms as if it were actually freezing cold in the warm hangar. "Creepy…I'll point him out during lunch tomorrow—he didn't follow me to the Pilot's Table…"

Arthur nodded and hummed before announced that he and Alfred should be heading back, the sun already setting, signaling that it was about six 'o' clock. Alfred helped Arthur into his old truck as always before stepping into the driver's seat and driving off, grinning to himself as he thought about telling his wonderful idea to Matthew. He then remembered that Arthur was supposed to tell him something.

"Oh, hey, what were you and David talking about?" he asked, sending a curious look at Arthur before returning his gaze to the road.

Arthur remained silent for a moment before sighing and answering. "Okay, so you know that one night he drove me home?" he asked, Alfred nodding his head. "…He…he kissed me."

There was a long silence before Alfred pressed his lips together into a tight line, eyebrows furrowing. "He what?"

"You heard me Alfred," Arthur grunted, furrowing his own eyebrows at the American. Arthur didn't want to repeat what he just revealed to his bespectacled boyfriend. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Gah! I _knew _that guy was—ugh!" Alfred almost slammed on the breaks, but refrained from doing so and continued driving, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "I'm going the kill him for doing that!"

"Alfred, I let him!" Arthur interrupted before he could continue. Alfred looked more surprised than angry now that the news had just been busted to him. "I let him do it okay? It's not his fault."

"Th-that's cheating!"

"Alfred, he's a confused guy!" Arthur argued. "He clearly didn't know what to do with himself an—"

"That's still not a good excuse to turn around and go off _kissing_ other people!" Alfred interrupted Arthur much like Arthur had done not too long ago. "God! You're going to end up like Francis."

"Don't you _dare_ say I'm like him!" Arthur snapped, his voice full of unadulterated anger. "Other than the fact that we can both fly a plane, we're _nothing_ alike!"

"Oh yeah? Well I'm going to go home and tell Matthew that Francis is probably cheating on him! Because knowing the both of you, he probably is!"

Alfred ended up making Arthur get out of the car before driving off to rant to Matthew at home. When he entered loudly, Matthew being there for he decided to go over and stay with Liberty who was going downhill fast, jumped at the loud bang of the door.

"What's up?" he asked, concerned.

"Arthur's cheating on me with that David guy. I was right Matthew, oh, and guess what? Francis might be cheating on you too."

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows, a bit concerned about the sudden fit Alfred was throwing. "Okay, slow down and explain," he demanded, though his heart squeezed uncomfortably at the possibility of Francis cheating on him with someone else.

"Artie and David were talking about something that happened the day you called me to move some furniture and shit. So I asked him what he was talking about and we talked about it in the car on the way home. Apparently they kissed that night and shit and it's obviously cheating. Arthur said 'oh, but he's confused and blah, blah, blah'. So I made him go home from where I threw him out of the car…"

Matthew took a moment to digest the information he was just given before letting out a huff that sounded a bit amused at how ridiculous Alfred was being. Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, irritated at the lack of response he was getting from Matthew. "So? Are you just going to let Francis cheat on you?"

"What the hell does this all have to do with Francis and I?" Matthew asked, crossing his arms. "First, you're jumping to conclusions. I mean, yeah it's not cool that Arthur and David kissed, but the mentioning of David being confused kind of makes sense."

"Wha—how the hell does that make sense?"

"He didn't know what to do and asked for the most obvious thing, assuming that it would fix his problem. Obviously it wouldn't, but that's how confused people work. They sometimes rush things because they don't want to wait to figure it out."

There was a brief silence before Matthew continued. "And did you just say that you made Arthur go back home on his own?"

"…Yeah…" Alfred muttered, still frustrated. Matthew stood up, grabbed Arthur by the wrist and walked him to the front door. "What, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Go apologize," Matthew pushed him roughly out the door before closing it so Alfred couldn't argue. With a frustrated huff, Alfred stood up, lacking the proper jacket since he'd hung it up on the coat hanger just a few minutes ago.

"Ugh…Mattie, why do you always have to be so damn smart?" he muttered, stuffing his numbing hands into his pockets and trudged down the sidewalk that led to the front door of his home before turning a specific direction, knowing by heart where Arthur' apartment was from his home.

All the way he was staring at the ground, looking up every now and then to make sure he was going in the right direction, and muttering to himself under his breath. Within time, he had entered the apartment building, his brain barely registering that he had arrived.

He knocked on the door, hoping that Arthur would answer instead of his father. Luck was on his side and a cranky Arthur answered the door, glaring up at Alfred. "What in bloody hell do you want?"

"Mattie made me apologize and stuff. So…sorry for saying all of that."

"Psh, that was a pretty half-assed apology," Arthur grunted, still glaring up at Alfred, looking like he was about to pull the wheelchair back and slam the door on the American. "Do you have anything else to say?"

Alfred knelt down and hugged Arthur, the latter's eyes widening at the action. "Mattie knows how to talk some sense into people Artie…" Alfred muttered. "I don't know what'd I'd do without him…"

"You'd be a train wreck," Arthur muttered into Alfred's ear and the American smiled despite himself.

"Ha, ha, more like a plane wreck," Alfred grinned, pulling away from Arthur. "I guess I should try that half-asses apology out again eh?" he then asked.

"Ugh, I don't want a spe—" Arthur started, but was silenced when Alfred kissed him on the lips. He leaned back as Alfred pressed their lips together a bit further before he himself joined in, one hand being grasped by Alfred's while the other went to the back of Arthur's head. The kiss was warm and soft, though it eventually evolved into a hot, messy one that left both red faced by the time they separated. "You didn't even apologize verbally git."

"Sorry~" Alfred grinned, hugging Arthur closer to his chest. "But a make-out session is so much better than just an 'I'm sorry'," Alfred pointed out.

"Well at least this time I didn't get myself killed," Arthur sighed, leaning into Alfred's embrace as the other groaned at the memory.

"Don't remind me—that sucked big time," he shook his head. There was a brief silence before Alfred decided to speak up once more. "Hey…do you think I should try to start over with that David guy? We kinda started off on the wrong foot…"

"Yes Alfred. You should give people better chances."

"I should've said that to you _way_ back when we first met," Alfred grinned, pulling away from Arthur and winking at the other who simply rolled his eyes at the action. "But sure, I'll give it a shot. Just don't go off kissing him again please?"

"Can do," Arthur nodded his head.

"So…what _do_ you think sex in a plane's like?" Alfred grinned and Arthur just had to hit him upside the head for bringing up such a thing. "Ow! What? I'm seriously curious about that!" he grinned toothily at his boyfriend. "Do you think we should try it out?"

Arthur turned a light red color. "That'd be hard with how spontaneously people come and go," Arthur huffed and Alfred began laughing.

"That's why you do it at night!"

"Alfred, you have _no idea_ how busy it is at night."

"Damn it, well, I guess I could figure something out. Hey, wanna stay over? I'm gonna tell Mattie about the dogfight simulation thing I came up with and you can keep Liberty company. She returned early with how her health is just…going down and stuff…"

"Sure thing Alfred."

XXXX

**(1) PLAAF – People's Liberation Army Air Force**

**(2) IAF – Indian Air Force**

**(3) ****Armée de l'Air – The French Air Force**

** Bwahaha, I had no idea how to end this chapter, so I just came up with shit. :P Oh well. Hope you liked it ;) The problem with David is figured out (hopefully). Ugh, I finished this later than I wanted to and now I'm upset that I won't be able to get in as much reading as I wanted too TT^TT Sucks for me. Oh well. I actually do think that a laser tag based thing for planes does exist, though only in the military :P If there is actually a public one though, that'd be amazing, though I highly doubt it with how dangerous it is :P So yup. Hope you liked this chapter and peace out my friends ;D**


	26. Chapter 26

** Oh God, I'm dead exhausted and it's only six in the evening (I say six in the evening because that is when I first typed this sentence). TT^TT I feel old. So bleh—managed to find some time to update tonight :) That makes me happy. Oh and you get to learn quite a bit about Alfred's uh…relationship past? Something like that ;) So enjoy ;)**

**XXXX**

"That's him," Yao pointed a finger at a rather large young man with short silver hair sitting at a table far from theirs. "The big guy with the silver hair," he continued, Arthur nodding his head, already having the feeling that the big guy was Ivan Braginsky.

"Okay, I'll go talk to him for you," Arthur offered, backing away from the table before being stopped by the Chinese pilot who looked nervous. "What's up?"

"U-uh, I don't think that's such a great idea…" he muttered. Arthur shook Yao's hand off and crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow in a wordless gesture that asked why Yao thought it wasn't a great idea. "He's kinda…scary and tricky to talk with…" he explained. "Here, let's just keep eating lunch, lunchtime's almost over anyways," he shook his head vigorously and tried to convince Arthur to return to his meal.

"Nuh-uh, I'm going over there," Arthur insisted, shaking his own head. "Just sitting there isn't the best idea," and he wheeled himself calmly over to the far table. Yao watched Arthur get further away from them before turning his attention to David who was happily finishing his meal.

"Don't worry 'bout it Yao," he started after swallowing his food. "Arthur's tough," he continued with a soft grin. "Anyways, where's Alfred?"

"Uh…over there," Yao pointed to the American with a finger after looking around the lunchroom a bit. Alfred was currently sitting with Matthew and his hockey buddies, talking about likely the game he wanted to get working on with Matthew and Francis. Alfred was making a whole bunch of hand motions and Yao could tell he was talking about planes. David blinked and nodded.

"Why isn't he sitting with us?"

"I think he's working on that laser tag plane kind of thing that he was talking about yesterday during our flights," Yao answered. "Heard Matthew was really good with technology—that's probably why he's with him."

Arthur stopped a small distance from the table Ivan was sitting at and was immediately greeted by what he expected least.

"Hello, what brings you over here?" Ivan smiled in a friendly manner, waving a hand. Arthur cocked an eyebrow.

"Yao confronted me about you making him feel uncomfortable," Arthur started. "And I just came over to make sure you are or aren't doing such a thing," he continued bluntly. It was strange how the other's smile never faltered.

Ivan sat up straighter in his seat, looking a bit thoughtful. "Well then why didn't Yao come to me himself?" he asked smartly, still smiling down at Arthur.

"You're intimidating him with whatever you're doing," Arthur huffed. Hopefully Yao wasn't mistaken about this guy stalking him—if he was, then Arthur was in for some deep shit. This guy looked like he could beat even Alfred no sweat despite how much Arthur didn't want to admit that. "So could you stop whatever you're doing?"

"What's your name?" Ivan changed the subject much to Arthur's irritation, still smiling nonetheless! "I guess since Yao talks of me so much, I don't need to introduce myself, but I'd like for you to give me your name," he continued innocently. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, not exactly liking Ivan's attitude at all.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland," he answered reluctantly.

"Oh yeah! You're the guy that crashed his plane," Ivan's smiled cheerfully. Arthur felt his eye twitch, getting even more irritated with the guy—he didn't come here to talk about his crash. "You must be pretty stupid to go out and fly in such weather though."

"I wasn't thinking straight," he snapped, balling his hands into fists and wishing that he wasn't handicapped. It probably didn't look intimidating at all.

"It still was stupid," Ivan smiled, shrugging his shoulders while he was at it. Arthur huffed, raking a hand through his hair, thinking over what he'd say next. He really wanted to beat this guy's skull in, but then again, Ivan looked like he'd snap Alfred in half like a twig.

"Look, I didn't come here to talk about my crash," he started, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure you're not doing anything to Yao excessive," he continued, looking the other straight in the eye. He found that the other had unnaturally purple eyes kind of like Matthew's, though his were more on the dark blue side. Ivan's were pure purple and that got Arthur thinking.

Ivan shrugged his shoulders, still smiling. "I'm just watching him, no harm done."

Arthur sighed in relief. He now didn't have to deal with this guy much longer. "Okay, I'm just making sure," he waved a hand in the air. "Just don't do it anymore okay?" he continued, turning the wheelchair so he could go back to the, what Yao dubbed, the Pilot's Table.

"Not do it anymore? You can't tell me what to do," Ivan remarked and Arthur stopped to glare at Ivan from over his shoulder, but was thrown off at the smile that remained on the Russian's face. It was starting to creep him out and began to understand why Yao was so uncomfortable about the topic of Ivan.

"Ivan, what the hell are you doing?" Arthur turned his head once more to find Alfred standing in front of him, staring stonily at Ivan. Arthur was about to ask Alfred if he knew Ivan or not before the American brushed past him, approaching the taller. "Leave him alone."

"He approached me first," Ivan shrugged his shoulders, though his smile dissolved and was replaced with an extremely intimidating frown. Arthur gulp and figured that despite the creepy demeanor Ivan's smile would give him—he preferred it over this scary expression the other was pulling. "Why? Is he you're new 'pet'?"

"Oh shut up about that—I don't do that anymore," Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and Arthur turned the wheelchair so he didn't have to crane his neck. Was Ivan talking about how Alfred used to pick people up left and right before Arthur came along? Likely.

"Are you sure?"

"Hell yes I'm sure you bastard," Alfred snapped, stomping a foot on the ground before continuing. "Now just sit down and keep your mouth shut if you don't want to get your ass kicked."

Ivan though, didn't do as he was told. "You? Beating me? Why does that though feel inaccurate?" Ivan questioned mockingly, placing a finger on his chin. "Well, I'm taller and stronger than you, that's why."

"Shut up."

"Why not test it out right now?" Ivan let his hand fall to his side, a toothy grin that was meant to be threatening stretching his lips. Arthur felt his heart skip a beat at the thought of these two fighting—they were both pretty impressive in the strength factor from what Arthur could observe and Alfred was really stubborn. If Ivan ended up getting the upper hand, the American would obviously be too stubborn to give up and would drag the fight on. There would be blood too. Lots of it.

"A-Alfred, let's just go back…" Arthur urged, though his voice came out quieter than he wished. Within the time that it took for Arthur to blink, Alfred had sprung forward and thrown a fist at the other's face only to have it blocked easily. The two obviously had a huge tension in between them, for if they didn't, this fight wouldn't have started. "Alfred!"

Ivan had managed to strike quite a few blows to Alfred's face, the American's nose already bleeding after being hit once. People gathered and only cheered them on much to Arthur's dismay and he looked around, hoping that Matthew would come to his aid much like last time, or Yao, or David, or anybody! As long as they helped him stop the fight.

A few kids let out disgusted sounds when they got blood spattered on them, wiping at the stains with their sleeves before continuing to cheer them on, telling one or the other to 'murder' their opponent. "Out of my way! Move it! Excuse me—coming _through_!" Arthur was relieved to hear Matthew as he Canadian basically threw people to the side to get to the fight. "Alfred what the hell? Is that Ivan?" Matthew then bellowed once he made it to the scene.

"No time to talk Mattie!" Alfred answered as he dodged Ivan's fist only to get a knee to his stomach. His glasses fell off only to be smashed under Ivan's boot as the Russian stepped forward to follow up with another attack.

"What's going on?" Arthur looked up at Matthew.

"Alfred and Ivan—look it's a long story, let's just get this fight broken up," Matthew urged, stepping forward and taking a hit for Alfred, though managing to grab ahold of Ivan's hand.

"Ouch! Matthew, this is between this commie and I!" Alfred barked, though the fight was brought to a standstill now that Ivan had one of his hands stuck in Matthew's death grip and Alfred was a few paces away from them. "C'mon! Move!"

"Are you _serious_?" Matthew asked, voice cracking due to anger.

"What's going on?" Yao asked once he managed to shove his way to the center of the crowd. "Alfred? What the—_Alfred_?" his voice was disbelieving and Arthur swore he heard disappointment in the Chinese pilot's voice, but he could never be sure.

"Step back four eyes!" one of the spectators yelled angrily, his angry remark aimed at Matthew. Gritting his teeth, Matthew turned and was about to retort angrily when Ivan took the chance and literally flipped Matthew over. Alfred's cousin yelped in surprise, his glasses flying off as well before he was brought down on top of them. A few of their spectators cheered while some watched in horror, though not doing anything to help. Couldn't they tell that they should go get an officer or something?

"Hey! Don't do that to my cousin!" Alfred angrily ground out and charged at Ivan, the Russian looking up from his smug gaze on Matthew, fixing his eyes on Alfred.

"Alfred don't!"

Arthur didn't know who to blame. He really didn't want to blame Yao though for all of this. Yao was insecure about someone who was bothering him and voiced his insecurities. Arthur though, really wanted to blame himself for landing Alfred in the hospital. He insisted that he go confront Ivan and Alfred had taken it the wrong way when he was just about done with Ivan. But then again, if Matthew wouldn't have lost his temper with that spectator, they probably would've been able to hold it off until a police officer arrived and separated the three.

But he still concluded that it was his entire fault. He did the one thing that lead up to all of those events.

Arthur lifted his face from his hands. He was currently in the lobby of the hospital. God, he'd been here much too often—for Matthew, himself and now for Alfred. Yao was seated next to him, basically traumatized with how much blood that had been shed in that fight. He was probably blaming himself much like Arthur was while Matthew was being bandaged up by Francis back at Francis's dorm. Ludwig was probably helping too since Arthur knew the guy was good with medical stuff. "How do you feel?" he decided to ask Yao.

"Like a huge dick," Yao muttered. Arthur nodded his head, fussing a bit over Yao's choice in vocabulary, but then again, who was he to question? "How bad is he? Did they say something?"

Yao had arrived just recently, that was why he was asking. "I don't know—they're keeping their lips sealed," Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "But obviously this is my entire fault for going over to confront him in the first place," he continued with another sigh. "I've been here far too many times…"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the guy the crashed his plane in that blizzard," he started. "Because I was angry and ended up in here for a while. I came here to visit Matthew every now and then too after the shootout since Matthew had been shot in the lung. I was shot too, but was released much earlier than him. Then Matthew suddenly picked up some lung problems," he shook his head. "Just…I'm tired of this place."

"Hm. I can tell," Yao muttered, smiling the best he could, though it was more of a grimacing smile than anything else. "I've never had to come to the hospital," Yao continued.

"I envy you," Arthur uttered under his breath. Yao remained silent after that.

**[French Frog]**

**Finished patching up Matthew. What's up on your end?**

**[Angleterre]**

**Nothing so far.**

**[French Frog]**

**How unfortunate.**

Arthur stared down at the screen of his phone before setting it in his lap. He looked up hopefully when a nurse approached the two, asking them if there were here for Alfred F. Jones. "Yup, that's us," Yao answered for Arthur whose throat had suddenly dried up in anticipation.

"Okay," she started. "Good news all around for you two," she smiled and both Yao and Arthur let out the breaths they didn't know they were holding. "He's just bruised and we haven't found a broken bone or anything serious that needs our attention."

"That's good," Arthur sighed. "May we visit him?"

"Yes you may."

They followed the nurse to the room that held a bandaged up Alfred who was lying on the hospital bed, grinning of all things up at the ceiling. "Okay, what's so funny?" Arthur asked, furrowing his eyebrows more in confusion than irritation. "What's with the smile?"

"Dude!" Alfred started, sitting up quickly, flinching at the bruises that spawned pain when he moved too harshly. "All we gotta do is land Francis in this hell hole!" his grin never faded and Arthur would've done what some called an 'anime fall' if gravity allowed it and if he weren't handicapped. So he simply settled with staring blankly at his overly optimistic boyfriend.

"Uh…why?"

"You and Mattie have been here, I just got myself in here—now all we need to do is torture Francis with a hospital bed!" Alfred refrained from dropping his grin.

"Do you seriously want to get your own friend in the hospital?" Arthur asked, his voice disbelieving.

"What? Well I can't really call him my friend can I?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side.

"Okay, okay, then how come you're not upset about uh…losing to Ivan?" Arthur then asked. Alfred seemed like the kind of guy that would get really upset over losing to his opponent. Instead, he had walked in on an optimistic Alfred. His brain had yet to catch up.

"What? Oh yeah, I'm mad as hell about that," something flashed in Alfred's eyes as he said that. "But I don't wanna bother with that right now," he continued, waving a hand in the air carelessly. Arthur nodded his head a bit numbly before wheeling himself closer to the side of the bed.

"So are you okay then?"

"Other than so sore that I'd prefer going through a meat grinder over this, I'm great," Alfred grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes. Yao approached the two awkwardly as seated himself next to Alfred's bedside.

"Uh…it's kinda my fault this all happened Alfred. Just so you know."

"Wait, how is it your fault?" Alfred asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"Remember when I told you guys about Ivan before you left the hangar yesterday? I kinda set everything up unintentionally…"

"Oh hush Yao," Arthur shook his head, the other stopping to listen to the British pilot. "It was me who went over to confront him remember?" he brought up and Yao nodded his head, though didn't look thoroughly convinced.

"Oh come on guys, is this that 'No it's my fault' argument?" Alfred asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "Dudes, that's so cliché," he huffed, leaning back on the pillow that supported his back. Arthur and Yao both simply stared blankly at Alfred who peeked an eye open before sighing and losing the laid-back position, sitting up once more. "So what're we gonna do until I'm out?"

"When are you discharged by the way?"

"I heard the nurse say tomorrow morning—hey, are you two happy that it's Friday? I am," Alfred grinned. "No school tomorrow."

"Could you at least act like you're _in_ a hospital bed instead of your room?" Arthur asked. Alfred simply grinned toothily at his boyfriend who rolled his eyes at the response. A thought then struck Arthur and he turned to Yao who looked at him curiously. "Could you leave? I kinda need to talk with Alfred," and with a nod of his head, Yao stood up and left the room.

"Alright," Arthur started, turning his attention to Alfred who was looking at him in a confused way, lacking his glasses. It made Alfred look older and more, oh what's the word? Something. It took Arthur a moment to realize that he had a question to ask. "Ugh! Okay Alfred, you and Ivan seemed to know each other, could you tell me if it's okay?"

Alfred tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling, licking his lips and furrowing his eyebrows. "Ivan and I…kinda were in something. You know how I used to 'pick people up' and all that stuff?" he asked and Arthur nodded his head. "Okay, so then I didn't really pick_ him_ up, more like he picked me up…oh, but let's not forget that he dropped me," Alfred snorted.

"Wait, wait—you and Ivan were together at one point?"

"Um, sorta? I don't really know, it was a super awkward relationship and I was really confused and shit, he came right after I left some French girl," Alfred shook his head, waving a hand in the air as if it were no problem. The idea of Alfred being with someone French made Arthur mentally snicker nonetheless. Unfortunately, when it came to French, Francis had tainted his brain and that was now the only face he could pull up mentally when a French person was mentioned.

"Okay, so after we broke up the first time, he kinda came back with this little guy who was Toris, that's how I met him by the way—and since I really didn't have anyone and was uh…I don't want to say heartbroken, kinda…clung to him," he furrowed his eyebrows further at how he worded it before shaking his head. "I don't know how to explain it—it's complicated. It was an on-off kinda thing you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I know what you mean," Arthur nodded his head. He had an on-off relationship with Francis a while back and hopefully they were done for sure.

"It happened a few times too. We'd met, get together, break up, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat," Alfred sighed. "All I can say is that it really sucked and that I've come to really hate the guy."

"Well, _how_ did you get to hate him?"

"He was the one who kept cutting our relationship not me!" Alfred pointed out, crossing his arms and huffing. "I mean, if I did that to you and didn't even have a care in the world about how you felt after doing so, wouldn't you hate me?"

"Yes, but that's not who you are so I don't have to worry about that now do I?" Arthur grabbed Alfred's one good hand, the other bruised.

"Well…I was giving an example okay?" he then shivered, grimacing a bit at what he was about to say. "The guy kept trying to get into my pants too—we were only thirteen when he started doing that!"

"Th-thirteen? Wait, how long has this been going on for?"

"Since we were twelve. The first time, he just said he was testing things and all of that bullshit," he grunted. "Left, came back in January, left, came back in July, which is when I turn thirteen, left, came back next January and tried to get in my pants then left when I turned him down rather epically."

"Jeez, you really are dense if you fell for it that many times…"

"Yeah, but I'm sure you'd be the same way if I did that wouldn't you? Like…it's a hoping against hope kind of thing."

"Alright," Arthur nodded his head with a sigh. "Anything else you think I should know about?"

"Other than I've been with basically every nationality on earth nothing."

"I doubt you were with _every_ single one, but probably quite a few."

"Ugh. You obviously know now that I was with Ivan, so Russian's on the list, Lithuanian because I hooked up with Toris very briefly, Japanese 'cause Kiku and I were confused," he snickered at his own words. "Damn, that was some hilarious shit. Kiku might not think so, but I think it's super funny."

"What?"

"Okay! So Kiku and I were confused right? This was when we were first getting used to the whole gay thing since Ivan hadn't stepped into the picture yet, which means we were twelve—which is kinda young for this kinda stuff. I was like—super curious about kissing and shit since we both concluded together that we were something called 'gay'," he made air quotation marks with his fingers. "Ha, ha, Kiku was so scared when I tried it on him."

"The next day, he said that he'd heard from other kids that if two people kiss they have to get married right? So he had gone out and gotten me one of those plastic rings you get in those quarter machines? Since my mom was really blunt with stuff like kissing and the like, I told Kiku that people kissed only because they liked each other and that they didn't have to marry each other. Oh man! You should've seen his face!"

"Okay, okay!" Alfred calmed himself down after his fit of giggles. "So who else? I've been with a few Mexican gals and one guy. Was in something with this Italian hot head and I'd be mortified if he was actually Romano, because I think he was—why are you laughing?"

"Just the thought of it makes me do so," Arthur grinned and Alfred pouted.

"Come on, I'm giving off 'top secret' information here!" he joked before continuing. "M'kay let's see uh…You obviously, so one Brit," he grinned, ruffling Arthur's hair before grabbing Arthur's hand again. "I was with this Canadian gal before Mattie totally stole her from me, bastard…but then we both got kinda tired of her and she obviously wanted this French guy over us—ha, ha! I guess the Canadians are attracted to the French eh?"

"Whatever you say Alfred," Arthur smiled, resting his head on the mattress, nuzzling Alfred's hand.

"Oh! There was this one Irish guy that I kinda liked, but really got on my nerves," Alfred groaned at the thought of said person. "It kind of was a sexual tension kind of thing since we were fourteen and like…yeah, that age is tough."

"Did you _do_ anything?"

"What? Naw, don't worry Artie," Alfred grinned, leaning over so that his cheek was softly pressed into Arthur's soft hair. "A few Chinese, but those were super brief—oh! There was this one Korean guy, I think his name was Im Yong Soo something really weird, he was super annoying and I swear he had ADD or something," he shook his head.

"We just kinda got together and his twin brother—I don't know his name—got super jealous and he kinda reminds me of Romano. Angry all of the time, it kinda makes me hope that he has someone right now…Oh hey, who all have you been with? I'm sharing a whole treasure trove of stuff, you gotta participate too Artie!"

"Obviously and unfortunately, Francis probably ever since I moved here. Briefly with Antonio before Romano stepped into his life…and I briefly crushed on Francis's roommate Ludwig," Arthur was glad Alfred wasn't looking at him since his head was resting atop his own, for his face heated up significantly.

"Ha, ha! Dude, I totally remember when Francis called having sex with you 'naked time'!" Alfred laughed, lifting his head so he could see the other's face turn an even darker shade of red if possible.

"What the bloody hell did he call it?" Arthur wailed.

"Dude, it was _way_ back when he had that bribe thing on you. In exchange for paying for your plane, you had to have sex with him? Remember? So we were watching you fly your plane I think and I think I asked him why you were acting so strange and he just said something along the lines of you being nervous about having naked time with him," he snickered as Arthur hid his face in the sheets of the hospital bed Alfred was laying in. "Ah, good times," Alfred grinned before rolling onto his side with difficulty. "So, Mattie, Bonerfoy and I are gonna get going on the laser tag equipment for your planes—you wanna do anything specific or something? We haven't done much in a while."

"Um, I'm not sure, I was actually hoping to just sit in your house for a while and do nothing in particular," Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm fine with that," Alfred grinned, hugging Arthur closer to him the best he could. "So what're we gonna do about Yao and Ivan since Ivan's obviously a problem?"

"Well I think we should do most of the things on Yao's side since obviously the other lead to this," Arthur shook his head.

"Totally, hey, you can let Yao back in by the way," Alfred announced, leaning back from Arthur. The Brit huffed, Alfred making sure that he memorized Arthur's expression before the Brit turned and wheeled himself over to the door and opened it, turning his head so that he was talking to the Chinese boy outside.

Eventually, the two reentered the room and Yao seated himself in the chair next to Alfred's bedside, looking a bit refreshed after having a bit of time to himself without having to worry about Alfred's health. "Alright Alfred, so are you going to get that stuff started once you're out of bed?"

"Yeah, I'm going to get Mattie's help and Bonerfoy's."

"B-Bonerfoy?" Yao snorted back a laugh as Alfred grinned toothily at him. Arthur smiled and shook his head. At least Alfred wouldn't be stuck in here for a long period of time. The poor guy would never survive.

XXXX

** Okay, I just looked at the outline I wrote for this chapter, which I did in church and was like blah. Lol, I blahed because of the half-finished sentence in it XD "Glad that Yao's…" that's exactly what's written in there before it goes completely blank. Hm…can anyone finish that sentence for me…(insert Francis laugh here)? **

** Ugwahahahuunuu! **

** …Sorry about that. I'm just spazzing over how I'm about fifteen hundred shy of ONE THOUSAND KAY PLUS –epic voice that echoes- God, I'm so proud of myself –w- I've never come this close at all. Yeah, my other story's pretty close as well, but it's about two, three chapters longer and has **_**fewer**_** words than this one. I love this story so much because of you guys. Thank you~! I don't know how many times I have to say it to show how thankful I am—all I can say is that it'd totally fill way too many pages. So blargh! Please review, I absolutely love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends!**


	27. Chapter 27

** Lol, did my fair share of participating in the SOPA/PIPA protesting and I'd have to admit, it was pretty fun. Yes, protesting is actually fun—either that, or it's my huge amount of patriotism speaking. So uh…without further ado, enjoy~**

**XXXX**

Nothing much was expected out of the following Saturday. Alfred would be discharged from the hospital, given three days' worth of pain pills. He and Arthur would then head to Alfred's home and do nothing in particular—nothing much. Arthur though—didn't expect to come home to a dead dog lying in the middle of the living room. Alfred at first assumed that Liberty was sleeping, but eventually noticed that she wasn't breathing and immediately hurried over to the canine's side. He tried to restart her heart in a vain attempt by pounding on her chest a few times, whispering words of encouragement mostly to himself than to the dog. Arthur eventually had to tell Alfred to stop and the American fell back onto his bottom, sat there in a brief moment of shocked silence before slumping visibly, his gaze falling to the ground.

Then tears began to fall.

Arthur really hadn't seen Alfred cry and bit the inside of his cheek when his boyfriend began weeping weakly. Alfred bent forward so he could wrap his arms around Liberty's neck and cried into her fur while Arthur silently wished that he wasn't handicapped. "Come on Al, help me out of this wheelchair…" he said quietly and the other did so, vision distorted from his own tears.

Arthur seated himself next to Liberty and placed a hand on her head that had already become frigid to the touch—it made him wonder how long the dog had been dead. He never really interacted much with Liberty at all, the only time he remembered being when Alfred brought her to school for the Halloween party it hosted. And despite all of that, he still felt his heart squeeze uncomfortably in his chest at the sight.

The two sat in a mourning silence before someone knocked on the door. Alfred stood up, telling Arthur that he'd answer the door before leaving the room before the pilot could protest in any way. He tried to get a peek into the mud room only to hear quiet voices. Eventually, their visitor hurried inside and stared down at the dead dog. "Oh, hello Matthew…"

"She's dead?" Matthew asked as if he were a child that was first experiencing the loss of a pet. "She's—she doesn't look—oh she's not breathing…" Matthew slightly chocked on his last words before dragging his feet over to Liberty's body. He knelt down carefully and ran his fingers through her fur. Alfred joined them once more, inspecting every inch of Liberty's paw, separating the toes slightly before running the pad of his thumb over one of the exposed paw pads. "She's cold…how long…?"

"We don't know," Arthur answered for Alfred, his voice a sigh. "The two of us came home and assumed that she was sleeping when we first saw her in the middle of the living room. But then Alfred noticed that she wasn't breathing and…well…she was already cold by then…"

"…Al…where's your dad?" Matthew then asked, having yet to cry, though Arthur could see the tears threatening to fall.

Alfred sniffed loudly, wiping his nose with the back of the sleeve to his jacket before placing a hand on Liberty's side. "At the station…they just retired about two weeks ago…"

"Should we call him?"

"No," he sniffed again. "I don't want him to know yet," he continued as he rested the side of his head atop Liberty's body. Alfred sat upright once more, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his clean sleeve. Arthur leaned onto Alfred, wordlessly asking for an embrace and the other did so, wrapping his arms around Arthur and hugging him close. "I don't want Liberty to go yet…"

"Shh, it can't be avoided Alfred," Arthur hushed, nuzzling into the crook of Alfred's neck. The American didn't respond and the two remained in that position even when Arthur's cell phone began vibrating in his pocket and he reached in to reply.

**[French Frog]**

**Where's Matthew? He isn't answering his phone…**

**[Angleterre]**

**He's with us at the moment. Liberty just passed away.**

**[French Frog]**

**Who's that?**

**[Angleterre]**

**Alfred's dog.**

**[French Frog]**

**Oh, then tell Alfred that he has my blessings.**

**[Angleterre]**

**Shut up.**

"Who're you texting?" Alfred asked quietly, squeezing Arthur a bit before loosening his hold around the pilot.

"Francis. He's wondering where Matthew is and I told him that Liberty just passed away if you're okay with that," Arthur answered, closing his cellular gently before setting it on the floor next to his knees. "He says that you have his blessings," he continued in a snort in an attempt to lighten the mood. Alfred smiled, though it wasn't humored.

"That's nice of him," he then replied. He took out his own phone when it began vibrating in his pocket.

**[Wang-Man]**

**-Picture of a Christen Eagle II-**

**This is totally something you'd fly XD**

He grinned down at the photo. It did look like something he'd fly if the stripes were red, white and blue instead of multicolored.

**[Wang-Man]**

**You feeling better? Tried to visit, but they said you were just discharged.**

**[Alfred]**

**uh ya im beter. my dog just dyed tho…**

Alfred stared down at the screen to his cellular, waiting for Yao's reply before setting it on the ground next to Arthur's. "Yao's textin' with me," he announced and Arthur nodded his head. A moment passed before the phone began vibrating on the carpeted floor once more, the screen lighting up, for it had dimmed within time.

**[Wang-Man]**

**-Picture of flowers in a vase-**

**Ouch. That's not good to hear.**

With a sigh, Alfred didn't bother with replying, not exactly having anything of great importance to say to Yao after that. He wrapped his arm back about Arthur and stared down at Liberty's body.

Another moment of silence passed before Arthur sighed and leant away from Alfred slightly. "Come on, let's go do something to get our minds off of this for now," he offered and with a sniff, Alfred agreed with the British pilot. Standing up, he stretched a bit, took a moment to make sure Liberty actually was dead and then helped Arthur into his wheelchair.

"Could you stay here for me?" Alfred asked, the question directed towards his Canadian cousin who was sitting next to the dog. Matthew nodded his head numbly and turned his head just as he heard the door swing shut. He sighed shakily and looked back down at the German shepherd laying in front of him. After a moment of visual inspection, Matthew let out a weak sob and bent over Liberty's body and began weeping much like Alfred was before he had arrived. He didn't expect for Liberty to die today, but did expect for her not to last the rest of the year. Death was so unexpected.

Matthew jumped when he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Francis who was kneeling down next to him, a look of concern on his face. "Why are you crying over Alfred's dog?"

"I-I raised her with Alfred…" Matthew hiccupped, throwing himself onto Francis, hugging the Frenchman close.

"Ah I see," Francis started as he wrapped his own arms around Matthew. "And how old is she?"

"Eleven…"

"And what did you get her for?"

"W-we got her for Alfred's birthday and Alfred thought that I'd be cool if his dad became a K9 officer," Matthew sniffed, looking up at Francis with watery eyes. Francis nodded his head, not having any more questions for the Canadian and simply placed a hand on Liberty's head—which was frigid on his own icy fingers.

"She's a beautiful dog yes," Francis smiled, rubbing the side of the dog's head before pulling his hand away. "Now where did Arthur and Alfred go off to? Did they ditch you?"

"Nah," Matthew laughed weakly. "Arthur said that it might be a good idea to go out and get this off of Alfred's mind for a while and he agreed. I don't know where they went…somewhere—I don't know where," Matthew babbled, repeating his statement without knowing it in the midst of his sorrow.

Francis smiled down at Matthew who was currently looking at the dead dog presented in front of them on the rug of the living room. "Well then why don't we go 'somewhere' as well?" he questioned, patting Matthew on the back lightly as if it would encourage the other to agree. "You need a break too."

"I promised Al that I'd stay…" Matthew answered. "I don't wanna break it."

"Don't worry about it—you can just write Alfred a note telling him that you left with me," Francis reassured. "Come—let's go," he urged, standing up, helping Matthew up as well while he was at it. "We can eat at the restaurant Antonio works at."

"M'kay, I'm fine with that…" Matthew nodded his head, wiping a few stray tears away, sniffing as he did so. "I think we should do something with the body before night though," he continued and Francis nodded his head before telling Matthew that Alfred's dad could figure that out without him. They then stepped out of the house that Alfred and Arthur had left unlocked, did what those two had forgotten to do and drove off in Francis's expensive car.

"So, what dog do you two plan on getting next if that's the case?" Francis asked.

"We agreed on an American-Canadian White shepherd…it looks exactly like a German shepherd—but it's white…" Matthew smiled at the obvious tidbit he added. Francis grinned himself at the name of the dog breed.

"I'm sure that was an easy one to agree on," he pointed out and Matthew chuckled lightly to himself before agreeing with his French boyfriend.

The two eventually arrived at a familiar looking restaurant and Matthew was immediately reminded that Alfred had failed epically at trying to kiss Arthur for the first time here. He smiled and began to feel nostalgic as they entered the building. "_Hola_ Francis! How are you?" Antonio greeted cheerfully at the sight of his friend.

"_Bonjour,_ I am well," Francis grinned and the two clapped their hands together in their own little handshake. "Matthew and I just thought that some lunch would be nice right now," Francis continued and Antonio nodded his head, leading the two to an open table.

They went through the normal routine when at a restaurant and eventually, Matthew had briefly forgotten about Liberty as he and Francis chatted with each other over an Italian lunch. "So Matthew, I heard that you and Alfred are plotting something for _Angleterre's_ birthday—could you be so kind as to tell me what it is?"

"What? No way! That's out secret! I promised Alfred that I wouldn't tell even you!" Matthew grinned in childish excitement. "We're still fine tuning it," he continued, glancing slyly up at the ceiling, hoping that his words would make Francis all the more curious.

"You and Alfred make a lot of promises don't you?" Francis decided to change the topic slightly.

"Well yeah—if it weren't for our different parents, we're basically brothers," Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "Like, the best brothers—those kind that you wouldn't change anything about," he then grinned. "Do you have anyone like that?"

"Either Arthur himself or Gilbert…"

"Whoa, you know Gilbert?" Matthew butt in before Francis could continue, eyebrows raising in surprise. "He used to uh…I don't know the word, kind of stalk me, but then again, he stalked me out in the open…I don't know, he was just kinda creepy."

"Well yeah. No wonder you seemed a bit familiar back at the Halloween party—your name that is," Francis grinned, leaning back in his seat. "God, Gilbert just talked and talked about you until he mentioned something about getting beaten by a hockey team."

"Yup, that's me," Matthew nodded his head. "I had to send my hockey buddies after him."

"That sounds like Gilbert," Francis chuckled, shaking his head. "Getting in trouble with basically everything—I think he's serving a bit of time in jail for messing with the law again…"

"I guess, I mean, I haven't seen him at school lately," the Canadian said thoughtfully. "Ugh, I kind of feel bad for the guy if he's in jail…"

"Nah, don't worry about him," Francis almost scoffed. "He thinks it's 'badass'," he lifted his hands and scrunched his fingers twice, preforming 'air quotation marks'. Matthew giggled and finished the rest of his lunch.

Francis paid the bill after a bit of a lighthearted argument over who'd do so and once that was settled, the two left. Antonio waved goodbye only to be dragged into the kitchen by an angry sounding Lovino. The two stepped back out into the slightly warm air that was Minnesota in the spring, there was still a whole bunch of snow on the ground and that occasional gust of wind made the place colder, but it was so much warmer than it was just two weeks ago. "It's heating up quick this year."

"Yeah, seems like it," Matthew muttered before he was pulled into an embrace. He smiled up at Francis, their abdomens pressed together from their closeness.

"So," Francis started, leaning down to kiss Matthew on the lips. "Where to next?" he asked before leaning down once more to kiss Matthew again.

"I dunno—oh wait, I saw this tiny Asian grocery store that caught my attention," Matthew suggested, leaning in to kiss Francis himself. "Maybe we could go there?"

"And what intrigued you to want to go there?" Francis asked as they separated.

"I heard that Asian snacks are pretty good," Matthew smiled before bringing an open palm out, waiting for Francis to do something and the Frenchman clearly didn't know what to do. "Well? I'm not giving directions, so hand over the keys," Matthew said.

"What? Oh fine," Francis muttered, stuffing a hand into his pocket and pulling out the keys to the car. "Just don't do anything to it."

"You're coming with me—you'll have to tell me when I'm stressing your baby," Matthew snickered and Francis rolled his eyes as they stepped into the car. He stuck the keys into the ignition and turned the car on before pulling out of their parking spot and driving away. It took a bit of time, along with getting lost before finally finding the place.

As they stepped out, Matthew smiled at the familiarity of the car parked next to theirs. "Guess who's here…" he muttered to mostly himself, though Francis heard the Canadian and grinned himself. They walked over to the small grocery store smoothly and entered to see Alfred spazzing over Pocky sticks.

"Dude, you gotta at _least_ have something on you! These are so amazing and I don't wanna go home and come back!" Alfred whined as Arthur had a hand hiding his face, obviously embarrassed with the scene Alfred was making. "I swear—I left my money at home! Honest!"

"Alfred, I already told you multiple times that I'm dry on cash as well! God, why did we even come here then?"

"'Cause Kiku brought these awesome snacks over one day and I asked him where he got them and he told me and I haven't really had much time to go find this place with having to rake up ninety thousand dollars to buy you a plane and planning something amazingly epic," Alfred huffed, looking over and grinning brightly when he spotted Matthew and Francis approaching them. "Mattie! My financial savior—you _have_ to have money on you!"

"So I'm assuming that you're lacking cash at the current moment," Matthew put bluntly as Alfred threw himself onto the Canadian.

"Uh, duh! I've been trying to convince Artie here that I _actually_ don't have money on me," Alfred pouted, towards Arthur before grinning enthusiastically back at his cousin. "So could you loan me some please? I'll even pay you back!"

"I doubt it, but okay…"

"What do you mean doubt?" Francis asked, crossing his arms as he watched the two relatives interact in amusement.

"Oh Al here just has a bad history of not returning money to others when he borrows it," Matthew jabbed Alfred in the top of his head as he pulled out his wallet.

"Wha—? Hey, shut up! I paid dad back decades ago!"

"Yeah, but I'm sure you're now in debt to mom with how much money you spent on Arthurs new plane."

"Gah! Why'd you have to bring that up? I'm going to pay that off, I swear!" Alfred huffed, straightening up from his awkward position of hanging off of Matthew's sleeve. "You smell like garlic bread—did you go to that restaurant Lovino works at?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded his head. "Went for lunch to get my mind off of things just like you."

"Sorry I ditched ya buddy…we could've brought you along…"

"Nah, I'm sure you enjoyed your time together," Matthew said and grinned mentally when he saw Arthur blush faintly. "And besides, Francis and I had a nice lunch together. That Gilbert guy's in jail."

"Whoa, for what reason? Dude, I knew he'd land himself in the big house," Alfred shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's totally him—oh hey Artie! Have you heard of a Christen Eagle II?"

"Uh…"

"He used to," Francis answered for Arthur who was clearly pulling blanks.

"Here, I'll show ya a picture—Yao just happened to add a picture for my convenience," Alfred grinned as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. After a moment of watching Alfred tap away at the device, he turned it so that Matthew, Francis and Arthur could see the photo. "Yao said that's something I'd fly and I said that I'd fly one if the stripes were red, white and blue instead of multicolored."

"Oh that's definitely you," Francis grinned while Matthew nodded his head in agreement at the colorful plane. "They do come with stripes in just multiple shades of blue," Francis then pointed out and Alfred grinned.

"Really? Dude, you have to email me a picture or something—I really wanna see that!" Alfred piped excitedly. "This plane's cool."

"There also is one that comes in black, yellow and red—showed it to Ludwig—guy looked really happy," Francis added. "Now come on, we can camp out at my dorm and eat our weight in Japanese snacks."

"Dude! Let's watch movies too! And do you have like, an Xbox or a Wii or something? 'Cause we can play video games too!"

"Whoa, slow down Al, we gotta do some things with Liberty's body with dad before all of that," Matthew shook his head and Alfred's mood darkened slightly.

"Uh…sure I guess we could…even though it'd be kind of a mood killer," Alfred muttered, the last part quieter than the rest. "But sure, yeah we could—I'll pick up some video games at home."

"Lucky you, Ludwig's got an Xbox."

XXXX

**Mm hm. Those two needed some more attention :) Don't really have much to say except for that I should REALLY start proofing these. W00t, everyone, let's' throw a party, I've hit Over One Thousand Kay Plus O_O Please review—love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**


	28. Chapter 28

** I lost the game XD**

**XXXX**

The rest of their weekend went by swiftly as Alfred and Matthew recovered from losing Liberty. Eventually, they were back in school, Alfred and Matthew discussing something while Arthur sat at the Pilot's Table with Yao and David. After this week, it'd be spring break and Alfred along with Matthew and both of their fathers were going to go down south to Florida for the vacation time. Alfred planned on telling Arthur the weekend that had just passed, but going home to a dead dog kind of wiped that from his memory bank temporarily.

Alfred looked up when someone approached him, placing a hand on the table so they could support themselves. "What do you want Ivan?" Alfred huffed, furrowing his eyebrows as the Russian leaned down a bit so their eyes were almost level.

"I'm surprised that you're still alive," he grinned, obviously joking around. "With how beaten I left you and how quickly they rushed you off, I'd assume that you'd broken quite a few things."

"I broke nothing thank you very much," Alfred turned his head away from the Russian stubbornly. "Now can you leave? I'm trying to eat lunch here," he continued, glancing at the taller through the corner of his eye. "'N' I don't wanna deal with you."

"But I always come back for you Alfred," Ivan remarked—whether it was a threat or not, Alfred couldn't tell.

"Well I'm not falling for it this time," the American answered blandly. Matthew leant forward a tad so he could monitor what was going on, furrowing his eyebrows with caution.

"I promise I won't leave again."

"I'm afraid you've used that one a bit too often with me," Alfred waved a hand in the air dismissively, clearly making Ivan angry. "No leave."

Yao, Arthur and David all watched the scene unfold warily. Yao and David flinched when Alfred abruptly stood up and threw a punch, clocking the silver haired Russian on the side of his face. "I-I think we should do something guys," David remarked, standing up in anticipation as Alfred and Ivan began fighting once more, Matthew trying to hold Alfred back only to be shoved aside.

"We should, but I don't know what to do—Ivan's just…" Yao trailed off, unable to find a word to explain what he wanted to say. He didn't want to say scary or anything like that because that'd just sound dumb wouldn't it? "David, wait!" Yao reached out for the Indian pilot who had taken three steps towards the brawl.

"David, don't get in the middle of it," Arthur shook his head. "You of all people shouldn't get involved with Alfred's problems."

David pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at the two pilots thoughtfully. He then looked over to the two young men caught up in the midst of a melee. Looking back, he shook his head and ran towards the fight anyways.

III

"Ugh…sorry if I kind of was a dick to you earlier…" Alfred sighed as he pressed the ice pack in his hand to a new bruise Ivan had inflicted upon him.

After a long brawl that Matthew soon jumped into, quite a few police and the principal, they had been successfully separated without anyone having to go to the hospital and went on with their day. Once school was out for the day, Alfred and the three pilots along with Matthew headed off to the airport.

"What? If so I didn't notice…" David stated, rolling his hand around to test if his bruised and now swollen wrist was doing fine so far. He winced before looking back up at Alfred, the two were sitting on some crates in the hangar as Yao, Arthur, Francis and Matthew went on with their business. "But sure, you do seem nicer than before."

"Ow! Don't do that!" Matthew yelped as Francis poked at a rather large bruise he sported on his shoulder. "Ivan got me good there, so don—OW! I_ told_ you not to do that!" Matthew wailed once more, swatting Francis's hand away.

"Jeez, it looks like that Ivan guy can stand his own ground good. He fought against you, David a_nd_ Alfred? All at once?" Francis asked as he pulled away from Matthew. "What's the damage?"

"Ivan walked away with like, nothing on him! What the hell, he's like a UFC fighter or something!" Matthew barked in frustration. "Though Al did get him good in the side of the face—that's what started the fight, David almost had his wrist busted and a few bruises here and there, Al has a black eye and a most of his bruises are on his chest and stomach. Damn it! That Ivan bastard should go to jail or something! You should know what I have."

"Yes, I should," Francis huffed, lifting Matthew shirt without giving the other warning.

"Hey! Francis!" he yelped, voice jumping in pitch. "You could've at least told me you were going to touch me with your icy fingers!" he continued before yelping in pain.

"God Mattie, you're loud!" Alfred laughed from his spot atop a few crates next to David. "Hey Bonerfoy—how loud does he get?" he then asked, waving a hand in an unnecessary attempt to get Francis's attention, for he already had the Frenchman's full attention. Francis rolled his eyes and decided not to answer Alfred's question. Believe it or not, he hadn't gotten in Matthew's pants yet and he was sure Alfred hadn't done so with Arthur yet either.

He turned to grin at Matthew. "Ah, he just gave me a good idea~" he only received a smack upside the head from the Canadian.

"I'll eat you for breakfast if you don't shut up!" Matthew barked and Alfred along with Francis burst out laughing at the poor threat. Alfred doubled over in pain from the bruises that littered his torso, but remained laughing nonetheless until Arthur wheeled himself over to the American and hit him on the head, likely adding another wound.

"Alright, well I'm done worrying over you for now," Francis sighed, standing up with a huff of air. "_Amerique_! When do you think we should start working on the rigs?"

"Oh yeah dude—I can't work over spring break 'cause Mattie and I along with our dads are going down to Florida, hell yeah!" he pumped a fist into the air excitedly. "I'm gonna do some surfing too!"

"You two are leaving for the break?" both Arthur and Francis asked simultaneously and Alfred and Matthew snickered to themselves at how in synch the two were at times.

"Yeah, I was gonna tell you Saturday but uh…" Alfred hung his head overdramatically, muttering to himself as the air around him darkened a bit, making David scoot a few inches away from him. "Yeah stuff happened," Alfred lifted his head, bouncing immediately back to being his chipper self. Arthur and Francis simply stared blankly at the American, wondering how he did it.

"So are we going to start this week or wait until spring breaks over?" Francis asked.

"Sure, we can start, Mattie's super good with electronics and shit like that—so I think he should help you out a bit more than I do," Alfred slid off of the crates and jogged over to the two wavy haired blonds. "First thing's first though, I think we should put the detectors or whatever they're called—the things that 'shoot' the lasers—where guns normally would be put on a plane."

"Our planes aren't meant for that exactly," Francis pointed out and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Well we could use references like the Spitfire or something. Or reference from planes in World War One since they used biplanes back then for combat," Alfred grinned, waving a finger in the air smartly. "But we can use a Spitfire reference for yours since yours is a monoplane."

"When did you learn that?"

"Uh, duh, I've got a pilot for a boyfriend," Alfred grinned and winked at Arthur who rolled his eyes from afar. "He told me about that stuff back when uh…well before the Stoplight Dance," he then waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Man Mattie, that dance was so cool though—there were a lot of reds and I totally used that dance for an excuse to wear my kick ass Pikachu shirt," Alfred snickered and Matthew rolled his eyes much like Arthur had.

"You still have that shirt?"

"Well yeah, it still fits just fine and it's Pokémon! You can't go wrong when it comes to that awesome stuff," Alfred grinned.

"Ugh, I kind of wonder why Kiku introduced you to that franchise in the first place…" Matthew shook his head in slight disbelief.

"Are you two talking about Pokémon?" Yao asked from his spot in the cockpit of his plane. "You got your asses whooped, and you're talking about something as absurd as _that_?"

Alfred looked over at the moody Chinese pilot and grinned sheepishly at Yao. "Well yeah, it's how our little circle of epic friendship works. Sometimes we can be mad as hell about something, but we just brush it aside and have a lighthearted moment so our brains don't melt," he explained. "Kind of like how Shakespeare put in a few 'funny' moments before something super tragic like how Juliet's dad was doing all of the housework and shit. It wasn't really something guys did back then and they actually thought it was funny back then," he continued shrugging his shoulders.

"Where did you learn that?" Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity.

"From my amazingly epic English teacher of course," Alfred grinned toothily at Arthur and gave a thumbs up.

"Well we didn't really do what you said all that much…" Francis pointed out and Alfred pouted.

"Don't ruin my moment of seeming smart," Alfred huffed, sending an irritated pout towards the French pilot who tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders in a careless manner.

"Yeah that makes sense," Yao nodded his head, commenting on what Alfred had said earlier. "Cool. This group's awesome," he then grinned, kicking his feet out of the side of the cockpit and getting into a comfortable position.

"Yup! That's how we roll!" Alfred grinned towards Yao, jumping back to his normal self and giving Yao a thumbs up. "Ouch," he flinched from all of the movement causing stress on his bruises. "Ugh, I don't think I'll be flying today Artie," he muttered, peeking into his shirt through the collar by tugging it outwards. "'M hurting over here…"

"I'm fine with that," Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think I'll fly today anyways."

"Ah, Francis, finally got around to visiting this place—hello Arthur," a low voice came from the entrance and the group looked over to see a tall muscular young man with slicked back blond hair.

"Hey Ludwig," Francis, waved a hand almost carelessly. "Alfred, Matthew and David got their butts handed to them on a silver platter by Ivan, so we're not flying today," he continued before being hit upside the head by both Alfred and Matthew.

"I can see," he stopped in front of the Frenchman. "Haven't been here in ages and the only new thing…actually, there's quite a bit of new things here, whose plane is that?" Ludwig asked, pointing to the blue and white Bucker Jungmann parked next to Yao's NAF N3N-3.

"That is Arthur's, Yao is the Chinese guy in the NAF N3N-3 and the Starduster is David's over there—Arthur met him at school."

"Hey," David waved a hand briefly in greeting before Ludwig nodded in recognition in his direction.

"Arthur bought a new plane?"

"Oh, sorry, didn't tell you the story," Francis shook his head. He then proceeded with telling Ludwig the story of Arthur and Alfred's break up along with Arthur crashing his plane (Ludwig knew about that part) which was followed by Alfred neglecting him and then apologizing by buying the Briton a ninety thousand dollar plane. Ludwig nodded his head here and there as he listened to the story he was being supplied with via his French dorm partner.

"How'd you get ahold of that kind of money?" Ludwig asked, turning to look at Alfred.

"Mom. Pure mom—am in debt to her right now," he chuckled humorlessly. "She's kinda pestering me about it every now and then."

"Mothers," Yao huffed.

"Totally," Alfred grinned towards the Chinese pilot before returning his attention to the German. "So, you're Ludwig? Damn, you're like…tall," Alfred tapped his chin. The German looked at Francis as if asking with his eyes 'you seriously hang out with these people?' before returning his attention to Alfred as the other babbled about nothing of great importance. Even though nothing had really happened yet, Ludwig could just tell that these people were a bit strange—especially Alfred.

"So!" Alfred clapped his hands together, gaining attention from everyone in the hangar. "Who's up for some grub? I'm starving!"

III

**[Wang-Man]**

**Do you have a moment?**

**[Alfred]**

**yup y?**

**[Wang-Man]**

**Ivan's knocking at my door and I'm scared and don't know what to do…**

**[Alfred]**

**shit man, tht sonds lik a scary thing. uh i say u shold anser…**

**[Wang-Man]**

**Okay.**

III

**[Wang-Man]**

**Alfred, he forced himself on me.**

**[Alfred]**

**did he rape u!**

**[Wang-Man]**

**No he didn't, but he did kiss me by force.**

**[Wang-Man]**

**Why can't he leave me alone?**

**[Alfred]**

**ugh, jus wait, ill tak 2 u durng lunch**

III

Alfred seated himself in front of Yao who was seated at the opposite end of the table Arthur and David were sitting at, likely having told them that he just needed some alone time. "What's up?" he asked as he stabbed his fork into his food. "You told me Ivan did stuff to you right?"

"…Yeah…" Yao muttered, staring down at his tray of food.

"Hey, dude, look up at me, I don't like talking to hair," Alfred grinned sheepishly, tapping at Yao's head as the other looked up at the American who was trying to help him. "So you said he forced himself on you? Are you sure it wasn't rape?"

"Yes I am sure," Yao huffed, furrowing his eyebrows, his normal rambunctiousness slightly showing through his slightly depressed state. "He just…well, he tried to take my shirt off and I had to slip out the window when he did," he then explained, gaze falling back down to his untouched meal. "And I was really scared…"

"Aw, dude it's okay to admit stuff like that," Alfred reassured, reaching across the table to pat the other on the shoulder. "I mean, I was scared when I fought him both times within the last few days," he pointed out, trying to make Yao feel better. "Ivan's just a scary guy."

"I'm afraid he's going to come again and…actually succeed in raping me or something…"

"Well I can't really invite you over since I'm getting ready to leave if that's what you're implying…" Alfred scratched at the back of his head, grinning sheepishly once more. "And I truly don't know what to do about that…"

"Could you tell police or something?" Yao asked wearily.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I can talk to my dad about this—he's a policeman," Alfred's grin brightened a tad. "Can you last another night?"

"…Yeah I guess…" Yao nodded his head reluctantly. He then smiled. "Thanks for helping."

"No problem, that's my thing," Alfred grinned, pointing a thumb at his chest. "Though Mattie's better with pep talking and stuff like that," he continued, glancing over at said cousin who was talking with his hockey team. "He's one of the reasons why Artie and I are still together—if it weren't for him, we'd be a total wreck."

"Likely."

"Are you questioning our relationship," Alfred asked, though he was clearly joking around with the Chinese pilot in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hah, so you doing anything over spring break?" he decided to change the topic.

"No, not really," Yao shook his head. "That's one reason why I'm kind of nervous. I'll be home most of the time…" he continued and Alfred mentally facepalmed at his failed attempt to make their conversation a bit brighter.

"Mm, I know what you mean…sort of," Alfred picked up his fork again, having briefly forgotten that he had a meal to stuff down his throat. "Ivan and I had an on-off relationship ever since we were like, twelve," Alfred announced. "And he was kinda creepy and awkward back then too."

"Oh really?" Yao perked up at the new tidbit before nodding his head. "Interesting."

"Now come on, let's stop being depressing and talk about something else."

XXXX

**I lost the game again ;) Uh, I really don't have anything to say at the moment. Hm. Nope, I really don't have anything to say. So please review, love to hear what you guys have to say and peace out my friends ;)**


	29. Chapter 29

** Ugh, sickness strikes again…**

**XXXX**

"Hey, Yao, talked to my dad yesterday," Alfred announced as he approached the Chinese pilot who was again, seated at the vacant side of the Pilots Table. The American sat himself in the seat across from Yao, setting his full tray of food in front of him. "He said you should go talk to Ivan yourself."

"W-what? No, I can't do that…" Yao shook his head quickly. Alfred stuffed his food into his mouth, taking a moment to fully chew it before swallowing to continue.

"No dude, I think you should go talk to him yourself, I mean, it makes a bit more sense. All of us going over there will only result in violence since it's…us, but if you try to go over there, I'm sure nothing bad will happen—he sees us as an obstacle or something like that," Alfred made a few over exaggerated hand motions. "Come on, it's time to man up and face the music Yao, avoiding it clearly doesn't solve anything…"

Yao lapsed into a thoughtful silence as he pondered over his options. Go talk to Ivan, completely drop the issue or continue to have Alfred deal with the Russian for him. With a slightly aggravated sigh, Yao stood up, his heart having already begun to race. "Y-yeah, I'll go talk to him myself then…"

Alfred grinned and watched the jittery pilot slink over to the table Ivan sat at, probably moving as slowly as possible, yet enough for Alfred to notice progress. "You're gonna have to move faster than that Wang-Man!" Alfred called after the Chinese pilot who flinched and didn't give a reply.

When he finally made it to the table, the Russian looked up, probably expecting to see Alfred instead of Yao since he adopted a slightly surprised expression. "Oh, hello Yao, didn't expect to see you here," he smiled up at the Chinese young man before nodding towards the empty seat across from his. "Sit down if you want to talk, what made you decide to come over here?"

With a shaky nod of the head, Yao seated himself across from Ivan, hands tightly clasped together under the table. "I uh…Alfred got boring…" Yao lied. He didn't really want Ivan to know that Alfred sent him over, so he went with letting the guy believe that he came over on his own free will. "Started talking about…boring stuff…"

Ivan laughed lightheartedly at Yao's words. "So true, Alfred can be a boring guy—say, I heard everyone that sits at that table you sit at are pilots."

"Why yes we all are pilots," Yao let a grin stretch at his lips, a bit more comfortable with a different topic. "Arthur flies a Jungmann, David a Starduster and Alfred just sold his pla—"

"Don't you know that Alfred can't fly?" Ivan questioned, cocking an eyebrow. Yao blinked twice before making a confused noise. "Dear Yao, Alfred could never fly even if he wanted to, whoever told you that is a liar," Ivan continued, waving a hand in the air carelessly. "Why don't you go ask them yourself?"

Nodding his head slowly, Yao stood up, glancing over at Arthur and David who were currently silent before looking back at Ivan. He then turned and began walking over to the Pilots Table, wondering if what Ivan had said was true. "Hey Arthur?"

"Hm? What?" the Briton looked up at Yao who fidgeted behind his back for a brief moment before he spoke up once more.

"I—is it—uh…_can_ Alfred fly?"

"What?" Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow, having forgotten that he had made that up to give Alfred access to the table Yao had restricted to pilots upon his arrival. "No, what gave you that idea?" he continued with a small laugh. With a small 'oh', Yao's shoulders slumped and he slunk back over to the table Ivan was sitting at, though this time, there was no hesitation.

He seated himself back in the spot across from Ivan's as the Russian waited patiently for the Chinese pilot to say something. "I'm friends with liars…" Yao muttered as he hung his head. "Who am I kidding?"

"Don't worry," Ivan started, reaching across the table so he could place a hand on Yao's shoulder, the other jumping slightly at the physical contact. "You don't need them anyways—I can replace them easily," Yao showed no resistance to the idea.

III

Alfred jumped up onto the row of crates along the wall of the hangar, pulling out his cellular.

**[Alfred]**

**dude ur not at the hanger. wer r u?**

He sent the message and pocketed his phone, leaning back on his elbows lazily and watched Francis, David, Matthew and Arthur move around and about the hangar. Francis was working on some of the rigs they were going to hook up to the planes for the dogfight simulations, Matthew walking back and forth as he retrieved tools for Francis.

With a sigh, he pulled his phone back out, feeling lazy at the moment.

**[American Idiot]**

**hey arty im bord**

**[Artie]**

**Have you become so lazy that you can't even hold a verbal conversation with me when we're in the same place?**

**[American Idiot]**

**uh yah…maty and me r levng 4 florda on friday actaly jus so u no**

**[Artie]**

**Fix your spelling and grammar.**

**[American Idiot]**

**no **

**[American Idiot]**

**hey, wen r u gonna get out of that weelchar?**

**[Artie]**

**They said if things go good, in between the end of April and the beginning of May.**

Alfred grinned and sat up from his original position, holding his phone out in front of his face. It originally had been around June, but now Arthur was saying in about a month he'd be out—if things went good. He couldn't wait for Arthur to finally get out of that nuisance, it was really starting to bug him.

**[American Idiot]**

**EPIC KICK ASSERY!1!**

**[Artie]**

**Sure.**

"What do you mean sure?" Alfred asked, Arthur looking over at him.

"Oh, so now you choose to be verbal?" Arthur asked and Alfred simply grinned and shrugged his shoulders. They both snapped their mobiles shut, Arthur shoving his into his pocket while Alfred set his on the spot next to him on the crate.

"Oh hey Artie! I want you to come over to my place once we leave here!" Alfred announced, grinning giddily as he slid off of the crate and bound over to his handicapped boyfriend.

"Any specific reason?" Arthur asked as the American stopped once he was right next to him. Alfred shook his head, though his grin never disappeared, so Arthur figured that Alfred was being secretive—he decided not to pry though. "Alright then, help me up," Arthur requested and Alfred did just that.

"We gonna fly?"

"Yup, goggles are where they always are," Arthur nodded his head once he was seated in the cockpit of the Jungmann, Alfred jumping into the second one soon after. "We're off guys!"

"Alright," Francis waved a hand in the air while David stood up straight from his bent over position as he checked out the tail of his plane. Matthew grinned at Alfred who returned the gesture enthusiastically along with giving his cousin a thumbs up as Arthur guided the plane out of the hangar.

III

"Alright Artie, I'm gonna introduce you to someone!" Alfred grinned excitedly as he stepped up the steps that led to the front door to his house. Arthur cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything when the American opened the door, whistling loudly after he did so. There was a brief moment of nothing before something white bound over to the entrance they were at.

With a huge grin, Alfred scooped the white puppy up. "Say hi to Iggy~!"

"Iggy? Why the hell did you name it that?" Arthur asked as Alfred struggled to keep the energetic animal in his arms as it wiggled around in an attempt to get at the shorter of the two.

"What? I think it's a cool name," Alfred nuzzled his face into the puppy's fur before looking back at Arthur. "Wanna hold him?"

"What? Oh, no I'm fine Alfred," Arthur shook his head. "Help me in first."

"Oh yeah, sorry 'bout that, one moment," Alfred entered the house to likely put Iggy in a crate before returning to the front door and helping Arthur into his home mainly because he didn't have a ramp. "Dude, he's super cute though isn't he?"

"Uh, sure," Arthur muttered as he and Alfred sat down in the middle of the living room, his wheelchair folded up and placed off to the side. Alfred disappeared around a corner for a brief moment, the sound of clicking before the white puppy bound back into the living room, jumping up on Arthur who clearly didn't approve. "Augh! I didn't know German shepherd's came in white," he grunted as he shoved Iggy off of him.

"What? Oh yeah they do, but this is an American-Canadian White shepherd," Alfred grinned. "God, it was so easy agreeing on this one with Mattie!" he continued before patting the ground to get the puppy's attention. "Iggy's a good puppy? Yes you are~"

Arthur simply watched and continuously told himself that he wasn't jealous of Iggy. Alfred and his new dog roughhoused while Arthur sat by, getting a bit of attention from Iggy before the puppy returned its attention to Alfred to chew on the American's socks or fingers.

After a bit of playing, Alfred managed to tire out Iggy and he sat up, fixing the position of his glasses that had gone crooked in the midst of his puppy wrestling. "Are you _sure_ you don't wanna hold him?" he asked, hugging Iggy close to his chest.

"Uh, no thank you," Arthur muttered.

"What? But how can you say no to this face?" Alfred asked in disbelief, holding up Iggy so that Arthur was staring at his puppy face. "He's so cute! Come on, at least give it a try," Alfred continued, handing Iggy to Arthur.

With a grunt, he got the dog fixed into a more comfortable holding position, his back propped up against the couch behind him. "He's heavier than he looks…"

"I know right?" Alfred asked, crawling forward so that he was resting on his stomach. "When I first picked him up it was like—whoa!" Alfred grinned, reaching out to scratch the puppy's head. "He'll get as big as Liberty was, maybe even bigger since he's a guy and guy dogs get bigger than girl dogs."

"Just like humans," Arthur hummed and Alfred nodded his head.

"Oh, dude, did you see Yao after lunch or anything? I sent him over to go talk with Ivan since if we did, it'd only end in fighting and shit," Alfred started. "So when I didn't see him at the hangar, I texted him and he hasn't replied yet, so I'm just wondering."

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "Uh, no, I haven't seen Yao unfortunately—I did talk briefly with him during lunch, but he left right away," he said and Alfred hummed thoughtfully. "Anyways, we don't really need to talk about that right now—who's going to take care of him when you and Matthew go to Florida?"

"Psh!" Alfred grinned toothily at his boyfriend. "You and Bonerfoy of course!"

"Wha—? Hell no!" Arthur wailed, Iggy snapping to attention at the sudden increase in volume. "I don't know how to take care of a canine! Get a professional to do that or something!"

"Oh come on! He has to get used to you and Bonerfoy if Mattie and I will be with you guys and he needs to trust you too! It's going to be no sweat, promise!" Alfred whined, giving Arthur his own pair of puppy-dog eyes. "Please? It's only for eight days! That's not too much for you right?"

Arthur was silent for a moment before he let out a sigh of defeat. If Alfred already had it planned out, might as well not argue. "Fine…"

"Great!" the American sat up immediately. "I typed out a little manual for you two to follow so you don't forget my verbal instructions."

"Believe it or not, Francis and I aren't that dumb…" Arthur muttered and Alfred snickered at the pilot's words.

He tugged Arthur into a one armed hug. "Aw, no prob man! I'll make the text extra-large so you two can read it too!" he joked and Arthur huffed, shoving Alfred off of him before setting Iggy on the ground.

"Ugh, might as well tell Francis this if Matthew hasn't already…" Arthur uttered under his breath as he pulled out his phone.

**[Angleterre]**

**We're taking care of Alfred and Matthew's dog while they're gone.**

**[French Pervert]**

**Yeah, Matthew just told me right now…**

**[French Pervert]**

**I'm assuming they're both in synch with what they tell us. :P**

**[Angleterre]**

**Maybe…That'd be kind of weird, but okay.**

"Yup, Francis already knows," Arthur sighed as Alfred peeked at the screen.

"Dude, you should totally change his name to Bonerfoy, it's so much better than French Pervert," Alfred voiced his opinion. "Hey, what's my name on your phone?" he then asked, grinning toothily at his boyfriend.

"American Idiot," Arthur deadpanned and Alfred fell silent for a moment before he broke out laughing. Iggy got up on his hind legs and began licking at Alfred's face, probably thinking that the sound he was making was weird and was going up to investigate.

"Dude, that's awesome! Keep it, I like it!" Alfred grinned before he began singing the chorus to American Idiot. "Ha, ha! Have anything else that's creative?"

"No, Matthew is Matthew, Yao is Yao, you and Francis are the only ones with interesting names," Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

"Aww, Bonerfoy and I special to ya?" Alfred grinned, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "That's so sweet of you Artie~! Let's see, Francis is Bonerfoy, you're Artie, Yao is Wang-Man, you know that Mattie's My New Therapist and I think that's it."

"Looks like I'm stuck with that wretched nickname…" Arthur muttered and Alfred simply pat the other on the shoulder with his free hand. "Ugh, so when are you leaving again? Just so I know when I should get ready for that little monster?"

"Iggy's not a monster! Oh, and I think you should have him at Bonerfoy's house since your dad might freak on you for bringing home a random dog…"

"Yup, ruin Francis's house sounds good to me," Arthur nodded his head. "His parents are going to be away from spring break, so we don't really need permission as long as we keep the house clean."

"Hah, don't forget to bring all of his toys then—he'll chew up anything," Alfred warned and Arthur didn't really seem to care. "Come on man, I'm serious, I don't want Iggy to think that chewing on cushions and furniture is okay."

"Fine, I'll make sure he chews only on his toys," Arthur waved a hand in the air almost carelessly. "Today's Wednesday right?"

"Yup—you have one day left of freedom~"

XXXX

**American Idiot by Green Day**

** Lol—get ready for puppy chaos next chapter :3 Alright, all I need to do is cover the rest of the school year and their summer and this story is over D: The thought makes me really sad, but it has to end eventually. But if you really think about it, it may be quite a few chapters before I actually start 'counting down' or something like that. So please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**


	30. Chapter 30

** Hi friends :D I'm back with a headache that really sucks. **

**XXXX**

_M'kay, first thing's first—thank you Artie for watching Iggy for me! I love you! Secondly, are you surprised that I'm actually spelling things right? I'm not using spell check, honest! I guess I just make myself seem dumber than I really am._

_ But if this is Bonerfoy, give this binder to Artie 'cause I don't trust you with Iggy O_O_

_ Kay Artie, let's get this started ;)_

_1. Feed him at 7:30 every morning, no more than ¾__of a cup._

Arthur snoozed away in the guest room to Francis's house. It's been a while since he had been at Francis's place and since it was spring break—why not sleep in? Arthur had mentally told himself before he went to bed that Francis would feed Iggy in the morning, he didn't exactly want to wake up so damn early just to feed Alfred's dog. It was probably torture for Alfred who probably normally slept in until noon.

Francis awoke at eight thirty, an hour later than the time in the instructions had told them to feed Iggy, so there was bound to be consequences. Unfortunately for the French pilot, he wasn't exactly expecting anything—so when he walked into his kitchen, it woke him up immediately. It was completely wrecked—Iggy had managed to get up into the cupboards through jumping up on a chair and onto the countertop. Francis wasn't sure how Iggy got into the cupboards, but bagged goods were scattered all over the floor. It looked like a tornado had just blown through his kitchen.

Looking down, Francis scowled at the puppy that was looking up at him and wagging his tail innocently. "You little devil," he ground out, but refrained from doing anything else and fumed to himself as he cleaned up the kitchen. Eventually, Arthur _walked_ into the kitchen, though it was more of a stagger for he was allowed to start walking a day ago. The British pilot had immediately gotten to doing so, desperately wanting to ditch that wheelchair.

"Holy hell—what happened?" Arthur asked, head flinching back at the sight. He scanned the kitchen in disbelief before looking at Iggy who was still wagging his tail, though this time was chewing on the leg of Francis's pants. "Did _he_ do this?"

"Yes…" Francis muttered, nudging the puppy's head away from his leg only to have the animal return to working on chewing a hole into the Frenchman's expensive pants.

_2. Take him for a half hour walk about ten minutes after he eats. Be careful, he still thinks the leash is a predator XD_

Arthur watched from the couch as Francis crashed through his house, chasing a fleeing Iggy in an attempt to get the leash on the American-Canadian White shepherd. Iggy looked like he was enjoying the misery he was causing the French pilot while the latter simply angrily yelled after the dog.

Arthur watched as Iggy acted like a wild horse, jumping around in an attempt to get the leash and collar off of his neck once they had finally managed to get said object on. Francis was tugging at it, demanding that the 'damn dog' get to walking or he'll just turn around and go home. Arthur scoffed and reminded the mechanic and pilot that Iggy didn't understand a word he had said. Francis simply glared at Arthur, his day already becoming a bad one. Arthur walked all the way to the park, but ended up sitting on the bench, already exhausted—he couldn't imagine the walk home, but watching Francis try to walk a twenty pound puppy was a rather hilarious sight.

_ Oh, and make sure the collar is on good._

Iggy managed to wiggle the collar off and began running around the park freely, Francis chasing after him as he wiled profanities in French. As he did so, a few passerby's stopped what they were doing to watch the angry blond dude that was chasing a tiny, white puppy around the large park. Arthur sighed in exasperation and facepalmed.

Eventually, Francis caught Iggy and slipped the collar back on along with tightening the piece of leather. He then stomped over to the bench Arthur was apathetically sitting on, an eyebrow cocked as he watched Francis. "Do I really have to go around two more times?" he questioned.

"Don't complain."

"Then _you_ walk him!"

_3. After the walk, play with him if he still has a bit of energy left (which is very likely) use one of those tug ropes in the bag, he loves those._

Francis muttered darkly to himself as he glared down at Iggy who was looking innocently up at him, probably wondering why Francis wouldn't play with him. The Frenchman was currently seated cross legged atop his kitchen table—Iggy had decided that Francis's fingers and toes were more fun to play with than the tug rope and dove for them. Eventually the puppy chased Francis into the kitchen and the mechanic took refuge atop the kitchen table.

Eventually Iggy got bored of wondering why Francis was acting like a bird and turned around to leave. Francis remained atop the table just in case.

_4. Do NOT let him chew on ANYTHING but his toys. _

Eventually, Francis jumped down from the table, deeming it safe to do so and entered the living room to find yet another mess much like he had that morning in the kitchen. He almost chocked on his own saliva when he saw that Iggy had chewed up the whole couch along with the rug and a bit of the chair—he was now eyeing the electrical cords with interest and Francis had to dive for the dog before it could clamp it's teeth around a black cord.

"Hell no dog!" Francis wailed, holding Iggy above himself, the puppy's tail going a mile a minute. He sat up, the puppy in his lap and scanned the living room. With a defeated sniff, Francis then looked at what used to be an expensive couch. "Mom's gonna murder me…"

Iggy wiggled out of his lap and snatched the television remote off of the ground. With another frustrated noise, Francis jumped up and chased after Iggy heatedly, the puppy slipping into the guest room. Francis threw the door open and Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at the overdramatic entrance made by his French friend if that's what you could call him.

"Okay, what now?"

"Get the remote out of his mouth!" Francis demanded for Arthur had picked the puppy up. Craning his head so that he could get a better look at the object that was in Iggy's jaws and hummed.

"Oh, I thought that it was something else," he muttered and pried the remote out of Iggy's mouth, the puppy growling playfully as Arthur did so, taking the action as a challenge to a game of tug 'o' war. With a grunt, Arthur tugged the remote forcefully out of the dogs mouth and threw it aside.

_5. After all of that, he normally gets tired and will fall asleep around lunchtime, so it's safe to eat :)_

"Gyah! Get him off of me!" Francis barked as he tried to tug his pant leg out of Iggy's mouth. The puppy wanted his lunch and had decided that chewing a hole into Francis's pants would get the guy to give him the food. "Get off of me you stupid dog!"

"My God, what the hell are you doing now?" Arthur hissed, poking his head around the corner to see the small battle in between Francis and Iggy.

"This dog is a nightmare! Let's send him off to Ludwig or something—he's way better with dogs that we'll ever be!" Francis almost sobbed, stomping the foot Iggy wasn't chewing on. Arthur mentally snickered at the rare moment of childishness Francis was displaying and took a mental note. "_Get off of me_!"

_6. If he went to sleep, take him out to go potty when he wakes up._

"You clean it up," Francis deadpanned.

Arthur crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air. "No."

Alfred would probably do anything to buy a tape that recorded the inner children Iggy brought out of these two.

"Oh come on! I've been taking care of him for half of the day! It's your turn," Francis whined, balling his hands into fists out of frustration. "And it's _your_ boyfriend's dog."

"Actually, Matthew and Alfred share Iggy."

"No! You go clean it up right now!" Francis wailed stressfully, stomping a foot for the umpteenth time that day. "Go clean it up right now! Go!"

Arthur eventually gave in and cleaned up Iggy's accident.

_7. Play with him when you let him back in because he'll obviously be energetic after taking a nap._

Arthur and Francis currently sat in the destroyed living room that they had yet to clean up, Arthur being used as a chew toy while Francis sat on the floor. "Ow! God, his teeth are sharp!" Arthur yelped when Iggy nipped at his toes. He shoved the white puppy away from him with his foot only to have the animal return full force. "A little help here?"

"Sorry _mon ami_, no can do," Francis muttered.

_8. Iggy normally gets his dinner at 5:00 PM. Make sure you feed him before 5:20 though, because he'll start barking._

Both Arthur and Francis sat at the kitchen table, hands held over their ears as Iggy yowled and barked from his crate that was set up in the living room not too long ago. Francis sent Arthur a look that was asking 'why's he barking?' and Arthur simply shrugged his shoulders. He didn't feel like going back to the guest room to get the binder of information Alfred had given him—he was exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep.

"Maybe we should just let him out?" Francis asked once Iggy had briefly stopped making noise only to start up again just as Francis finished asking his question. Arthur shrugged his shoulders again and Francis stood up, taking Arthur's wordless reply as a 'yes'.

_9. After you give him his dinner, wait about fifteen-twenty minutes before letting him out to go potty again._

Arthur had fallen asleep on the chair that had seemingly been spared by Iggy. After Francis had let Iggy out of his crate, the puppy had begun running around the house. Too tired to deal with him, Arthur had decided to go to sleep in the living room and Francis had fallen asleep at the kitchen table not too long after, leaving Iggy to whatever the hell he wanted to do.

When morning arrived, Arthur muttered irritably under his breath and opened his eyes groggily. Damn it was early according to the wall clock hung near the entrance to Francis's home. He then scanned the living room and grimaced at how it seemed to have worsened overnight. Looking around and straining to hear Francis's snoring, Arthur closed his eyes again.

No way in hell was he going to be the first one up now.

_ Hey, could you go supply shopping for me? (I'm mainly doing this to make Francis really miserable—make him spend money for me.) Uh, go to a Pet Co. anywhere. Here, this is what I need._

_-Dog food (Iams puppy kind)_

_-Toys_

_-Nail clipper_

_-Puppy manual (You two might need one ;D)_

_-Puppy treats (he likes the little steak shaped ones)_

_ Oh hey, remember to feed him before you go :)_

Francis and Arthur eventually got a leash on Iggy again and headed off to a Pet Co. that was nearby. Francis was clearly extremely pissed about the mess Iggy had made that Arthur, unknowingly to the French, had found before Francis had woken up.

The two entered the building, Iggy trying to wiggle out of the now tightened collar. "Why the hell do we need to buy a nail clipper again?" Francis asked as he looked at the small piece of paper a quarter of the size of a normal one that Arthur had torn up to write down what Alfred wanted the two to buy for him.

"Don't ask me," Arthur muttered, but grinned mentally at the reason Alfred had given him. They found what was on the paper and bought it, Francis obviously being the one to pay since Arthur was tight on money and hadn't brought any in the first place.

Once they finished their task, they immediately headed back for Francis's home, not wanting to go anywhere else at the moment. Francis was refusing to walk Iggy again and Arthur obviously couldn't. "Ugh…it's we've only been taking care of him for a day and a half and we're already getting our asses kicked by a four month old puppy…" Francis muttered, hands gripping the steering wheel rather harshly as he spoke, eyes narrowed angrily and lips set into a hard scowl.

"Yeah and—" Arthur turned to look over into the backseat at Iggy before he grunted. "No! Don't do that you stupid dog! Gah! He's peeing in the backseat!"

"_What the hell am I supposed to do?_"

"_I don't know! _Pull over! Pull over!"

"Damn it, this car was so expensive too!"

"Oh gross it's starting to stink in here! Oh fucking bloody hell—shit!"

"_What now_?"

"He's pooping dammit!"

_10. Heard we were going to get a thunderstorm or two over spring break. That's kinda strange, but then again, it's Minnesota :P Minnesota's got some spontaneous weather doesn't it? M'kay, thunderstorms…uh, I'm sure he'll get a bit scared, so try to distract Iggy with food. Playing with him a bit might help too :)_

That thunderstorm just _had_ to happen the night of the day they went to Pet Co. didn't it? Didn't it?

Arthur threw the pillow off of his head, having pressed it over his head in an attempt to drown Iggy's scared wailing out. Unfortunately Iggy was intent on getting either his or Francis's attention—plus the poor thing sounded scared to death. Rolling out of bed, Arthur steadied himself and stumbled out of the guest room and into the wrecked living room that he and Francis weren't exactly bent on cleaning up anytime soon.

Iggy's ears perked up when he saw Arthur stumble into the room his crate was in. Licking his nose, Iggy placed his front paws on the door to the cage and whimpered, tail wagging at the sight of his owner's boyfriend. Iggy didn't like Francis 'cause the weird guy was boring and mean and yelled at him. This guy was so much better because he didn't yell as much an actually let him chew on his toes and fingers—most of the time. He walked funny though—did all humans walk differently?

Arthur knelt down onto his knees and opened the crate, Iggy jumping out and immediately crawling into Arthur's lap. With a sigh, Arthur wrapped his arms around Iggy and picked him up along with himself, huffing almost breathlessly with the extra twenty pounds—his legs were killing him, he should tone it down tomorrow—make Francis do even more of the work.

Arthur stumbled into the guest room, placing Iggy on the bed and falling to his knees. "Ouch—dog you're going to kill me," he panted, scratching behind Iggy's ear with a hand. Iggy crawled forward and licked Arthur's nose before the British pilot heaved himself onto the bed tiredly. A clap of thunder and Iggy was immediately under the blanket, snuggled up to Arthur's chest and nibbling on the collar to Arthur's shirt. Iggy missed the tall guy with glasses and the other human that looked like him—when were they going to come back?

With another sigh, Arthur closed his eyes and ignored the heavy rainfall just out the window. At least Iggy served one good purpose—he was a good bed warmer.

XXXX

** I love puppies, but they can be such a hassle :P Joey's definitely a hassle. Lol, this chapter kind of reminded me of Marley & Me—anyone else seen that movie? I love it :3 Well, I really don't have much to say after that, so please review and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: Not many are aware, but pizza is considered a vegetable here in the US XD Oh Alfred, you'll make up anything to have an excuse to eat something like that more won't you? XD**


	31. Chapter 31

** Hi my friends ;D **

**XXXX**

"Holy flippin' hell…" Alfred muttered as he examined the living room. It looked like a tornado and a few hungry sharks had gone through it and then experienced a volcanic eruption. There was…Alfred assumed that that used to be a couch, the chair looked worse for wear and the carpet was absolutely totaled. The only thing that was untouched was the television on the table.

He had managed to get into Francis's home mostly because the door was unlocked for some reason and nobody was answering when he had been knocking for about ten minutes. Matthew had driven to Alfred's home to drop off their luggage and would drive here to see Iggy and Francis.

He stepped into the kitchen, which wasn't much better than the living room and spotted the Frenchman out cold at the kitchen table, two of its legs chewed on so badly that they looked like they'd give out sooner or later. Francis was snoring loudly, drool trailing down his cheek and onto the table. Alfred sauntered over to the table and poked Francis in the head repeatedly. "Hey, wake up sleepyhead…"

Francis's eyes opened, hazy from being waken up. His eyebrows then furrowed. "_AIE!_ Arthur! It's happening again!" the Frenchman then wailed loudly, making Alfred jump back with a 'whoa!'. There was the distant sound of someone falling out of bed and Iggy began barking from the guest room.

"Whoa! Whoa dude, calm down!"

"Arthur!" Francis cried, reminding Alfred of a child calling for their older sibling. "You better not have broken your leg because I'm not getting up!"

"I didn't break my leg you bloody wanker!" Arthur barked from the guest room. "Just wait a moment!"

"Nooo!" Arthur stumbled in, much to Alfred's surprise, and hobbled straight over to Francis and hit him upside the head—hard, and knocking the Frenchman out of his chair, Francis landing on the floor with a pained mutter about hallucinations. Arthur huffed, looked at Alfred and blinked.

"Uh…Francis…?" he then looked at his old friend. "I can see him too…" he continued. Francis sat up, blinked a few times and then latched himself onto Alfred's leg.

"Holy day, the Lord has come!" Francis sobbed before rapid-firing about the hell Alfred had put them through. Confused, Alfred took a closer look at the two friends—Francis looked like he hadn't slept in days and hadn't been able to get the time to take a shower and Arthur looked a bit of the same, though there were a few small scabs on his fingers and hands likely from Iggy chewing on them. All Alfred could sum up was that they were both down right exhausted.

He then tuned back in with what Francis was crying about now. "And the tornado drill was absolutely hell with how long it lasted and how loud your dog wa—"

"Tornado drill?" Alfred asked, voice full of disbelief, managing to shake Francis off of his leg so that the Frenchman now looked like he was groveling at Alfred's feet.

"We went into a tornado warning and the siren drove your demon insane which drove us insane…it lasted all night too…" Francis muttered into the floor.

"Oh my fucking God! It looks like you guys were jumped by ninjas!" Matthew yelled as he entered Francis's home. Francis immediately sat up and latched onto Matthew's leg, resuming with his long list of complaints about Iggy. Alfred and Matthew both blinked down at Francis before Alfred looked at his boyfriend.

"What's up with him?"

"Your dog brought out things in us I _know_ you'd do anything to see," Arthur muttered before turning around, muttering about going to get Alfred's dog. Alfred grinned and followed after Arthur, clearly excited to see his dog. They entered the guest room, which wasn't much better than the rest of the house of course, Alfred kneeled in front of the crate that held a puppy wiggling with excitement.

"Hi Iggy~!" Alfred cooed happily as he unlatched the door to the cage. Iggy came wiggling out and crawled into Alfred's lap, trying to get at Alfred's face so he could lick it. Matthew and Francis soon entered, Matthew kneeling down next to Alfred and happily ruffling Iggy's fur. While the two cousins gave the puppy all of the attention in the world, Francis and Arthur stood at the doorway, watching their boyfriends blankly.

Arthur hung his head and Francis swore he could see a storm cloud raining over the British pilot's head. "Life…is meaningless…" he muttered, utterly defeated and exhausted. "I'm going to go get something to drink…"

"Sure, I'll come with you."

III

"Dude, where'd Artie and Bonerfoy go? I swear they were in here not too long ago…" Alfred muttered as he entered the trashed living room, Iggy in his arms. "Did they leave or something?" he then asked, turning to look at his cousin, confusion painted over his face as well. Matthew shrugged his shoulders before taking out his phone to text Francis.

"I'll text him, hopefully he'll tell me where he's at…" Matthew muttered.

**[Matthieu]**

**Francis, where'd you go?**

He stared down at the screen to his phone, awaiting a reply before sighing and setting his phone on the ground as he seated himself next to Alfred who was currently trying to pull his own phone out to text Arthur without jostling Iggy. Matthew perked when his phone began buzzing on the once plush carpet and picked it up.

**[Francis]**

**No.**

"The fuck?" Matthew muttered. "He didn't answer my question…"

**[Matthieu]**

**What?**

**[Francis]**

**No.**

"Okay, this is dumb," Matthew grunted and Alfred finally managed to pull his phone out, though he froze when Iggy tried to get himself into a more comfortable position in his arms. Matthew jabbed in his reply, hoping to get something out of Francis other than the word 'no'.

**[Matthieu]**

**I'm sorry **(he really didn't know what he was sorry for though)**…can you please tell me where you are?**

**[Francis]**

**No.**

Matthew threw his phone at the couch and crossed his arms moodily with a childish huff. Grinning triumphantly once Iggy stopped moving around, Alfred flipped his phone open and started a new text.

**[American Idiot]**

**arty wer r u?**

**[Artie]**

**Fuk damit fone 2 brite! u gona by me a nu 1**

"Ha, ha! I totally know where they are!" Alfred piped, his earlier attempt of keeping Iggy asleep now in vain for he woke Iggy with how loud he was. "Oops, sorry Iggs," he grinned and pat the puppy atop the head. "Man, you've gotten a bit bigger since I last saw you buddy—though you haven't gotten any heavier—did they feed you?" he smiled. "I'll give you something to eat once we get home Iggs," he perked up when his phone began vibrating again.

**[Artie]**

**stoopid dwog n its stoopid cutnes n steling al of ur damn attention.**

**[Artie]**

**n im nt geajous of ur stooopid dwag**

**[Artie]**

**n Bonerfoy won't stop steling my shit…**

**[Artie]**

**n he jus stol my drink…imma go jump of a clif now**

**[American Idiot]**

**woa! slo down arty im comin**

Alfred pat Iggy's head before standing up. "Come on Mattie—Artie will jump off a cliff if we don't hurry," he grinned. Alfred knew that it obviously wasn't something Arthur would do even when inebriated. Matthew rolled his eyes and continued texting with his boyfriend as they got ready to leave—they could pick up all of Iggy's stuff later.

**[Francis]**

**And that dog ate my damn couch. ****Mama voy a matar a yo…**

**[Matthieu]**

**Damn it, you're making no sense, I didn't know you knew Spanish.**

**[Francis]**

**That was perfectly coherent French.**

**[Matthieu]**

**You're obviously smashed.**

**[Francis]**

**Ani, I am not smashed.**

**[Matthieu]**

**You obviously are if you didn't realize you just said 'no' in Korean.**

As the two stepped out of the house, Alfred continued to snicker to himself as he read a text that had been split into multiple texts for its length. The thing that was making him snicker was how much of a hypocrite Arthur became when he was drunk.

**[Artie]**

**n im ti red n lonely becas ur dogs such a dam tryed 2 kil us i swer he has some sort of gruje on bonrfy and me! n nao im cryn coz just the thought of igy is scarry!**

And it went on and on. Alfred wondered how Arthur could've typed out that much in such a short amount of time—maybe he typed really fast like those text addicts. The two got into the car, Alfred having put Iggy in the crate before they completely left the house. "Artie's so random…"

"Ugh, you should see what Francis says in his texts…I can't even understand them…"

"Huh?" Alfred leant over as he jammed the keys into the ignition, getting a peek at the text Francis had just sent him. "I think that's Italian…"

"Exactly."

III

"Hey, at least I wasn't kicked out this time," Alfred grinned as he and Matthew entered the bar.

"Well, you can go in, you just can't buy alcohol," Matthew pointed out, cocking an eyebrow. "I don't get why they'd kick you out."

"I dunno, I guess Artie was just giving them a hard time and didn't want to deal with me," Alfred grinned. "I had to pick him up and he was a happy drunk back then. Man, he was so cute and now he's really scary and random…" Alfred lapsed into a daydream. "Man…"

After a brief moment of Alfred being silent, he perked up once more. "Now all we need to do it find an angry British guy and a French guy speaking multiple languages," Alfred grinned widely.

"Hm, well they obviously are tough to find," Matthew's voice was full of sarcasm as he pointed towards a table. Francis was standing atop it, singing Elle Me Dit while Arthur was sobbing loudly at the table, pounding it with a fist.

"That stupid dog hates me and Al's gonna ditch me for Iggy! Seriously, it's some sort of sick crack comedy that Iggy can mean Igirisu which Kiku said was England in Japanese—are you listening to me? I blame Ludwig!" Arthur sobbed before knocking back the rest of his drink. He looked over at Alfred and Arthur and then latched onto one of Francis's legs, making the older slip up in his drunk dancing and fall off of the table, said object going down with the two of them.

"_Aie! Estupido! Este duele, mon dieu!" _ Francis barked.

"Francis! There's two Alfred's and I don't know which one's Alfred!" Arthur wailed, shaking his friend violently. Alfred and Matthew glanced at each other with looks that read 'why do we love these two again?' before shifting their gazes back to the two blonds that were their boyfriends, Arthur angrily screaming about Iggy while Francis slipped back and forth in between English, Spanish and French.

"Hey, you guys here to pick these two up?" a man asked, likely wanting to get rid of the two dunk blonds that were too loud.

"Nope," Alfred held his hands up uselessly. "We don't even know who they are."

III

The two sat on the couch as they watched Arthur and Francis continue their drunk shenanigans. "Ugh, the drive home…oh God the drive home…" Alfred muttered, resting his head in his hand. "That really sucked."

"Ugh, you should be glad they were half-passed out in the car…too bad it didn't last," Matthew sighed as he watched Arthur play with Iggy goofily in his drunken stupor. It was rather humorous though. Every now and then Arthur would mutter darkly to himself before forgetting his grudge against the cute puppy and resuming with playing with the White shepherd. Francis had resumed with his singing session.

"Didn't know Bonerfoy listened to J-Pop," Alfred pointed out and Matthew shrugged his shoulders at his cousin.

"I didn't know that either," he answered and Alfred chuckled. "Hey Al, you're running out of food—you're going to have to go grocery shopping without me or Arthur," Matthew then decided to announce and Alfred groaned once more. He really didn't want to go grocery shopping at the moment—watching Francis and Arthur absolutely smashed was something he'd never pass up, but then again, he was kind of hungry…

"Fine…" Alfred stood up. "Just make sure my house doesn't end up like Bonerfoy's…we might have to help clean up since Iggy's our dog…" he continued with a sheepish grin. "That'll suck…giving that we have school tomorrow, damn, I really don't want to think about that…"

"Me either, but we have to," Matthew sighed. "I think we should get things ready tonight after you go grocery shopping," he continued.

A few hours passed and Alfred stepped back into his home with four bags in hand. He closed the door, stepped further into the building and grinned at the sight of Arthur dead asleep spread eagle in the middle of the living room, Iggy snoozing comfortably on his chest. Francis was passed out next to Arthur, half of his body on the couch. The only thing that looked out of place was the Monopoly board in front of them, pieces and papers strewn everywhere.

He set the bags on the table in the kitchen an immediately headed for the guest room where Matthew was likely to be. He entered and found his Canadian cousin lying on the bed, half asleep as well. "Were those two seriously playing Monopoly before they passed out?"

"They got bored," Matthew shrugged his shoulders, looking up groggily at his cousin.

"Dude, they could've made a sewer cap entertaining with how smashed they were," Alfred snickered and Matthew smiled, nodding his head in agreement. "I think you should've given them a very long ball of yarn."

"Why?"

"See what Artie can come up with—he's really good a complaining when he wants to," Alfred grinned, jumping onto the bed. "So, conclusions."

"Sure—what's yours?"

"Some people just aren't cut out for taking care of dogs."

**XXXX**

**Estupido! Este duele, mon dieu! – Stupid! That hurt, my God!**

**Elle Me Dit by Mika**

**Mama voy a matar a yo… - Mom's going to kill me…**

**Ani – No**

** Sorry if this is a bit choppy and strange and short—I'm dead tired at the moment and could go to sleep right now :3 Ugh, I don't know if I have anything else to say, so please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;)**

**Fun Fact: The Eiffel Tower was supposed to be temporary.**


	32. Chapter 32

** Herro, I am back :) I rike airpranes 8D They're amazinry amazing. Over and out.**

**XXXX**

"Ouch, damn it, my legs are killing me right now," Arthur complained as Alfred helped him into the wheelchair. School was starting again today and Arthur had woken up to two rather unpleasant things. The first being his legs throbbing horribly from overuse yesterday and the second being a hangover so bad he thought that he'd have to call in sick—he normally went to school with a hangover whenever he drank.

"Then let's try not to use your legs for a few days okay? You're going to stress them and then the doctors will only say that you have to stay in your wheelchair for even longer," Alfred pointed out and Arthur huffed, shaking his head. Alfred then snickered. "I still think the things you said on the car drive home were funny—man, you and Bonerfoy really got smashed."

"I was troubled," Arthur muttered his reply as Alfred wheeled him into the building. Alfred chuckled and bent forward so he was level with the side of Arthur's face.

"Sure you were—and are you seriously jealous of Iggy? He loves you! Can't you tell? Oh—hey Yao!" Alfred straightened up and waved enthusiastically at the Chinese pilot. Yao jumped slightly, looked over his shoulder at the two and immediately hurried off. Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and let his arm fall to his side. "Dude, what's up with him?"

Arthur shook his head, not having the faintest clue. "I have no idea."

The two of them continued on to Arthur's first period, Arthur lightly complaining about his head and legs on the way there. Once they stopped at the door, Alfred walked around the wheelchair so that he was facing his boyfriend. "So are you sure you're okay? I could go get a water out of the vending machine that you can drink if it'll help…"

"No, I'm fine—it's 'Bonerfoy' you should be worrying about with how much he drank."

III

Ludwig itched at the back of his head as he stood awkwardly at the door to the bathroom. He and Francis's classes didn't start until eight, so the Frenchman had about one more hour to regurgitate the rest of the contents in his stomach. That still didn't mean Ludwig was heartless. "Are you okay?"

"_Mon dieu!_ I am okay—go away!"

"Uh…okay…"

III

"Dude, he _really_ looked sick," Alfred grunted. He had woken up just in time to catch the hung over Frenchman going out the door. They had chatted a bit, Alfred doing most of the talking and then the wavy haired left, muttering about hating hangovers, promising to never ever drink again and about his mother killing him when she saw the mess Iggy made. "Hey, you wanna do something nice tonight? I'll pay—promise," Alfred grinned toothily. At least Arthur could count on Alfred paying for whatever they'd do giving that he was filthy rich, but didn't show it with his slightly nerdy looks.

"Oh hey guys," Matthew greeted as he approached Alfred and Arthur.

"Dude, did you like, leave at midnight or something? You weren't at my place in the morning," Alfred asked, clapping a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "And I think that disappointed a rather hung over Bonerfoy."

The Canadian simply cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, well yeah I kind of did leave at midnight, though it was more like four in the morning and I didn't exactly want to wake Francis with how loud he was snoring…"

"Ugh, I think I could hear him in my dreams," Arthur joked, though he sounded like he was complaining.

"You okay? You must be hung over too," Matthew then asked, looking down at Arthur.

"I'm surprised you're not worried about your boyfriend who obviously drank more than I did."

III

If Francis wasn't muttering, Ludwig could've been tricked into thinking that the wavy haired blond had died. He was currently sitting face down on the tabletop, a full cup of coffee next to him. The guy never drank coffee last time Ludwig checked.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Say that again and I'll kill you…"

III

Matthew muttered something under his breath before perking back up immediately. "Well it's good to see you sober again," he grinned. "You uh…you're kind of strange when inebriated…" he itched at the back of his head before muttering under his breath once more about Francis being even weirder. "You tried to set a bowl of broccoli on fire."

"I…what?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, a look of slight horror on his face. It was just that ridiculous. "Please don't tell me you let me get into the matches?"

"Nah, you were rubbing two pencils together, chanting 'burn shit, burn!'," Matthew chuckled and Alfred laughed out loud as Arthur bowed his head in slight shame at his drunken actions.

"Aw, dude, I really wish I didn't leave for groceries then!" he clapped a hand on Matthew's shoulder once more. "Drunk Artie…man, the first time you were like—stuff and the second, during our uh…yeah, you were really angry and now you're just a sobbing mess over Iggy and you do random stuff," Alfred snickered to himself. "Oh God…trying to set a bowl of broccoli on fire with two pencils…would've thought you knew that two pencils wouldn't set on fire(1) if you rubbed them together, but whatever man, you were pretty smashed."

"I vaguely remember passing out in front of a Monopoly board," Arthur muttered and Alfred laughed, the bell ringing in the background. "Now you two scram before you're late for your classes," Arthur smacked Alfred lightly on the thigh.

"M'kay, whatever you say Artie," Alfred grinned, bending over to kiss Arthur on the cheek before jogging off, hiking his backpack further up his back as he ran off. Matthew said his goodbyes and turned to walk away himself. Arthur watched Matthew and some dark skinned, likely Cuban guy meet up and walk together to their first classes. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at the sight, but shook the thoughts out of his mind— who Matthew hung out with was none of his business.

III

"Hey where's Yao? I wanted to talk with him about something…" David asked, scanning the lunchroom for said Chinese pilot that had turned up absent at the Pilots Table. Arthur took a moment to scan the lunchroom himself before spotting Yao sitting gloomily in the seat across from Ivan who looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Over there," he pointed the other pilot out. "With that Ivan guy Al doesn't like."

"Oh," David nodded his head, but didn't get up for a good reason—Ivan was a scary guy. The two continued with eating their lunch when Alfred approached them, lunch tray in hand and a huge grin plastered to his face.

"Yao still being antisocial?" he joked and Arthur rolled his eyes while David nodded his head—he obviously couldn't tell when someone was using sarcasm or joking around. "Ugh, why'd I help him out again?"

"Because you're the 'hero'," Arthur muttered and Alfred's grin widened. He then pulled the British pilot closer to his side by throwing an arm around the handicapped pilot's shoulders. Arthur clearly regretted what he had just said, having likely just fed the American's overinflated ego. "I'm assuming I can't take those words back?"

"Why would you want to? I'm amazingly awesome!" Alfred grinned, nuzzling his face into the side of Arthurs.

"You're starting to sound like Ludwig's brother," Arthur pointed out.

"The guy that got beat up by Mattie's hockey team? Dude! That was so funny!"

"How?" both Arthur and David asked simultaneously. Alfred snickered at how in synch they were at that moment before continuing.

"Just…that guy really deserved a beating," Alfred waved a hand in the air in a dismissing gesture, wanting to move on to a more interesting subject. "So! Do you think we'll be seeing Bonerfoy at the hangar?" he grinned, leaning forward on his elbows as he stuffed his food into his mouth messily—Arthur looking away so he didn't have to witness something so horrifyingly disgusting.

"Who's Bonerfoy?" David asked and Alfred began to snicker once more.

"You sound funny when you say Bonerfoy. He's Francis, the guy with the beard and the girly hair," Alfred then explained, tugging at a few strands of his own hair as he did so.

"Oh, him," David nodded his head before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion at the rest of Alfred's earlier words. "And what do you mean 'if he's at the hangar'? He's always there isn't he?" he asked.

"He's got a killer hangover."

III

"Heh, heh…Bonerfoy died," Alfred snickered as they entered the hangar, the first thing he saw was Francis asleep in the cockpit to his Pietenpol, legs hanging out the side.

Francis cracked an eye open, an irritable aura surrounding him. "I'm still alive mind you," he muttered darkly before closing his eye again, resuming with his evening nap. Alfred stopped at the foot of the plane and propped himself against the body of the monoplane.

"Getting old?" he grinned and Francis opened both eyes this time along with swinging his legs back into the cockpit of the plane.

"Shut up, I'm fine," Francis huffed, shoving Alfred away from his monoplane. "And get your filthy American hands off of my plane."

"Hah, fine, fine," Alfred grinned, holding his hands up and walking away from the Frenchman. "No need to be so pissy about it," he continued as he stopped next to Arthur.

"Hey, where's Yao?" Francis asked. Alfred returned his attention to the Frenchman.

"He's been alienated from us by Ivan," Alfred shrugged his shoulders and Arthur rolled his eyes at Alfred blaming Ivan for Yao's refusal to see any of them. "Hopefully he'll talk to us again though because he didn't look really happy during lunch when he was sitting with Ivan—I mean, I can totally understand what he's going through, Ivan isn't exactly the most fun guy to be with but hey. Either that or he's grudging over something, but Yao isn't like that."

"And what if he is?" Arthur asked, poking Alfred in the side with his elbow and Alfred placed a hand atop Arthur's head much to the British pilot's irritation.

"Don't be such a pessimist Artie, Yao's cool," he grinned down at his boyfriend as he swat the hand off of the top of his head. "Because if he actually is like, sorry for the lack of a better word, 'boycotting' us, that'd be a real disappointment…" Alfred shook his head in a slightly morbid fashion before brightening up immediately. "But I know Yao's not like that!"

Francis decided to change the subject. "Hey, I think we should get started on the rigs about today, I've got a few blueprints and studying done surprisingly."

"So that was why you kept ditching me with that horrible little demon!" Arthur accused, pointing a just as accusing finger at the Frenchman who raised both hands and tilted his head to the side with a sly smirk stretching at his lips. The American standing next to him simply pouted and crossed his arms.

"You're talking about Iggy like he's a plague."

"In some ways—he is," Arthur muttered, still glaring at Francis.

Alfred huffed once more. "You guys are so mean…yeah, I think we should get started—here, I'll call Mattie," he then grinned, tugging his cell phone out of his pocket. "Let's see…My New Therapist…call…" he held the device up to his ear, a grin stretching at his lips.

"His new therapist?" Francis asked, quirking an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Matthew apparently can talk sense into anyone," Arthur explained and Francis grinned with a 'that's my _Matthieu_' before Alfred loudly greeted Matthew on the phone. Arthur would hate to have been Matthew at that time despite who it was he would've been talking to. Sometimes he really wondered why he'd fallen in love with Alfred—honest. He sighed and took out a water bottle Alfred had packed with them.

"So do you think you could come over? Nobody is better with electronics than you are," Alfred said, having begun to pace out of boredom.

"_Sure Al, just give me a minute, I'm talking with someone right now," _Alfred stopped and tilted his head to the side, likely having picked it up from tilting his head along with Iggy, it being a semi-pastime.

"Who're you talking to that could be more important than me?" he asked.

"_Uh…a lot of people are more important than you in my world Al…"_ ouch. That one hurt. Let's try that again.

"Who're you talking to that could be more important than _Francis?_" he tilted his head to the other side, shoving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I really want these to be done in like, two weeks or so…and it'd be super fun to test out and I can't wait, so…you know me."

"_Fine, fine, I'm coming, just wait a moment, gotta say goodbye_."

"I don't want to sound rude and stuff like that, but who are you talking to?" Alfred asked, honestly curious.

"_A friend_."

"A friend," Alfred's voice was a deadpan. Arthur and Francis seemed to have gained interest in Alfred's conversation, only able to hear Alfred's side of it obviously. "Cool, so that's his name?"

"_Who do you think you are, your dad? Gosh, just let me do what I want to do…If you did this with Francis, things would've really been different from now."_

"Uh, I think I did do it with Francis…" Alfred muttered and Arthur spat out the water he was drinking rather comically, Francis snickering from his plane at Arthur's reaction to the innuendo. "So—whatever, just hurry over 'kay Mattie?"

"_Ugh, what the hell us up with you? Never mind, I'm coming_," the sound of a laptop being slammed shut rather harshly sounded in the background before Matthew hung up. Alfred sighed and snapped his mobile shut before looking down at Arthur.

"What'd you spit you water out for? Did it taste funny?" he asked and he'd probably never figure out why Francis burst out laughing while Arthur facepalmed.

**XXXX**

**(1) Rubbing two pencils together to create fire – Oh God, I used to think that you actually could create fire by rubbing two pencils together. I was horribly afraid of fire back then :D**

** So short…oh God, these are getting shorter and shorter…at least I've got something building up right now :3 Two things actually…mwahahaha…Ouch, my right hand hurts for some reason. It's aching and stuff like that that really hurts—not excruciating, just…a dull ache that is painful enough for you to take note of it.**

** Hey-ey! I got an awesome book on fighter planes and I was like 8D I love it –w- At random times, I'd say things like "I like planes" or "I like books" to my mom and she'd be like "Oh, I would've never known…" obviously there's a shit load of sarcasm in there if you couldn't tell. Sometimes my mom or dad will laugh with how much of a dork I am when it comes to planes and books :3 They think it's weird that I'm reading books on history though…I'm reading two on the Battle of Britain, one on Nazi occupation in Paris (I think I mentioned it earlier in this story when Arthur was in the hospital), one on spy service in England and am currently working on one that covers the history of Paris from **_**waaaaayyy**_** back when it was like…just…I dunno, it was very early, to present day. Lol, a couple of millennia crammed into five hundred pages :3 That's what I call it. I call my other books 'books with excessive amounts of pages', I'm serious :D **

** Oh God, I started ranting there, sorry, I just really feel the need to talk about my boring life. I have another thing I want to say, but I shouldn't because it'd just be another big paragraph (it'll look big on Microsoft Word because I use that). So bleh. Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: More planes were lost/damaged in the take-off/landing processes than in actual dogfights in World War Two.**


	33. Chapter 33

** Hey guys, I'm back. :D Sorry if this seems kinda late…so uh…yeah, I don't really have anything to say, so enjoy~**

**XXXX**

"Ha, ha! I've totally got you now Bonerfoy!"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow when he heard a slick ruckus coming from inside of the hangar. The sound of one of the crates falling over hit his ears and he didn't want to wait outside any longer—those two weren't fit for being responsible for themselves (especially if they're with each other). As he wheeled into the hangar, he didn't know whether he should be relieved or not—there was Francis and Alfred, two flashing lights attached to their waists and both holding what looked like flashlights.

"Hey, this isn't fair, we're not moving fast enough to make it fun or anything," Francis huffed, waving the object around, the red laser coming from it dancing on the ceiling high above. "Even when I'm throwing crates around—I don't even think we should be doing that in the first place."

"Nah!" Alfred stuck out his tongue and clicked his light on, waving it around as well, though slowly. "Hey, how 'bout this—we can put these receivers over the left side of our chests so it's like—a bit harder to hit and it's over our hearts, that'll make it a bit more complicated since your back will be turned to me~"

"What makes you think you'll be the one doing the chasing?" Francis challenged, furrowing his eyebrows as he removed what Alfred called the receiver and clipped it onto the collar of his shirt. "Let's put them on the collars of our shirts since I don't have a pen pocket or whatever the hell those nerds use."

"Just because you have a shirt pocket doesn't mean you're a nerd," Alfred shrugged his shoulders as he mirrored Francis's action. "But yeah, these are meant for the planes anyways—we can go play laser tag some other time with the real stuff!" he piped before pointing the laser at Francis's forehead. "I'll give you five seconds more to live~"

Francis bolted and the two were soon running around the hangar, yelling and laughing at each other as they played what looked and sounded like laser tag. Arthur watched as David jumped out of the way of Alfred who was laughing joyfully, waving his laser around like a maniac. Arthur wheeled over to Matthew who seemed to be sulking at the moment—he could just see the storm cloud over the Canadian's head. "What's eating you?"

"My precious rigs…" the Canadian muttered in reply before lifting his head and wiping his eye with one finger to add drama for there were no tears falling. "Oh, those two are just being them…I have to make sixteen more of those, two receivers and fourteen guns—you see, I just finished those four and was about to make another—I use them as a direct reference—and then well…they decided to start a game of laser tag as you can see."

"And Bonerfoy is down!" Alfred whooped, throwing his hands in the air, almost losing his grip on the laser in his hand. Matthew would've been pissed if Alfred broke one. His celebration was cut short when the receiver hanging on the collar of his shirt began blinking. "Oh come on man! You're dead! Err…well…you're supposed to be dead!" Alfred pointed an accusing finger.

"No way."

"No fair," Alfred crossed his arms childishly.

"Uh, how isn't it fair? You let your guard down!"

"Well it still isn't fair."

"Yeah, it's fair."

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

Arthur and Matthew watched as the two went back and forth like two arguing siblings during a game of dodge ball or something you played when you were younger. The British pilot groaned and slapped his forehead with a hand before letting it fall back to his side. "They're dolts."

"Yes, unfortunately they are," Matthew sighed, shaking his head before returning his full attention to the handicapped Brit. "So then we have to synchronize a couple of computers to your planes so they can receive data and we can use a point system you know? Ugh, and I'll have to rig your planes so that you can shoot the 'guns' with a button or something—like in a read plane," Matthew continued.

"That sounds complicated," Arthur remarked.

"Actually, it isn't that bad—those two are just making it hard to progress," he glanced back at the two, according to he and Arthur, dolts as they argued back and forth about something completely off topic to what they were hearing just a few seconds ago.

"Dude, I'm _totally_ a better driver than you are! I don't even drink!" Alfred spread his arms out as if it'd prove his point.

"Oh come on, that has nothing to do with grapes!"

"Wine's made with grapes!"

"What in bloody hell are they arguing about?" Arthur muttered in Matthew's direction.

"I don't know—at first I assumed it was about who drove better, but after hearing Francis saying that it had nothing to do with grapes, I honestly haven't got the faintest of clues," Matthew shook his head. "They're just…them."

"Artie~!" Alfred bound over and placed himself behind Arthur's wheelchair, gripping the handlebars tightly. "Tell Bonerfoy that raisins aren't grapes!" he continued, his tone a high pitched whine.

"Apparently they're arguing about raisins," Arthur glanced at Matthew before looking at his boyfriend. "Al, raisins are dried up grapes," he pat Alfred on the side of the head. "That's why dogs can't eat them either (1)."

"Doggies can't eat raisins?" Alfred asked, sounding like a child. It made Arthur roll his eyes, lean up to kiss the other on the lips briefly before lightly shoving him away from him.

"Yes, dogs can't eat raisins or grapes, it's bad for them. And it's just dark chocolate that's bad for them—they can eat milk chocolate and anything else like that safely (2)," he continued and Alfred's brain seemed to be unable to compute giving his blank expression. "Don't over think it Al," he smiled up at the American who began to fiddle with the laser in his hand.

Yao just happened to walk in, seeming slightly surprised at seeing the rest of them in the hanger. "Oh! I-I'm sorry, I'll just le—ARGH!" he then wailed as Alfred pointed the laser abruptly into Yao's eyes, yelling 'bam!' rather loudly, his voice echoing in the hangar.

"Alfred don't do that, you can blind someone with that!" Matthew immediately jumped to action, snatching the laser from Alfred's hand and turning it off, swatting Alfred on the side of the head for good measure. The American sulked at the physical abuse as Matthew apologized to the Chinese pilot who was still slightly shaky from the greeting Alfred had just given him.

"I-I'll just leave you guys…heh, heh…" Yao turned to leave, but was stopped from doing so when Alfred threw an arm around the pilot's shoulders.

"Aww come on you party pooper—we haven't seen you for a while and it's kinda boring without you!" obviously the second part to his statement was a lie giving that he and Francis were just having loads of fun with pretending that they were gunmen on the front lines in World War Two.

"Yeah," Francis agreed with the American, throwing an arm around the other shoulder of the Chinese young man who was obviously having his personal space invaded by two dolts. "You should join us, it's awesome—oh, and your propeller's bent pretty badly, what's up?"

"U-uh…"

"If you've been flying it with that thing, that's pretty dangerous you know," Francis stated, letting go of Yao and sauntering over to the NAF N3N-3 Yao owned. None of them had noticed it except for apparently Francis, but lo and behold, all three propellers were bent. Two of them weren't so noticeable, but the third was almost forced into a ninety degree angle.

"Dude, that damage has been done by someone, there's no way you can do that to a propeller without crashing," Arthur shook his head, wheeling himself over to the biplane to get a closer inspection of the damaged piece to Yao's plane.

"Ivan got angry," Yao answered, tone hesitant. "That's all—he was just angry…"

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed at the revelation and he stepped forward. "Alright—what'd be do? Tell me everything, I'm going to have to beat his skull in if he did something t—" he stopped dead in his tracks when someone grabbed ahold of his arm. Looking over, he underestimated his angle and ended up having to bring his eyes up to see Arthur standing once more. The Briton had been doing it more often with each day passing after he had given his legs a three day break—he was out of the wheelchair tomorrow.

"No, let's not," he remarked and Alfred was about to protest when Yao quickly agreed with Arthur.

"Yeah! It'll only end in fighting anyways," he pointed out. Alfred took a moment to cool himself down before sighing and nodding his head in agreement. "I was just talking about hanging out with you guys or…well…it was something about you guys and he got angry, that's all."

"That _better_ be all," Alfred muttered.

"S-so what do we have to do about my plane? I don't think you can bend it back into place…"

"Yeah, we'll have to completely replace it," Francis shook his head. "That's going to be a huge pain—I'll get that done with Ludwig sometime tomorrow, he's really good at taking things apart whether it be a plane or a treadmill."

"Thanks then…" Yao smiled and completely entered the hangar, having decided that he'd hang out with them for a while.

"He has his own way of worrying about all of us," Alfred grinned, patting Yao on the shoulder. He then grinned and turned towards Francis just as he happened to turn towards the American. "Har, har—this town ain't big enough for the both of us."

And chaos ensued.

III

Once the two had managed to completely wear themselves out, Yao was able to sit on the crates next to Matthew in peace without worrying about either a Frenchman or an American dashing by and throwing crates down in an attempt to stop the other in their tracks. Said two were currently sitting on one of the wings on Francis's Pietenpol, arguing over where the lasers should be put on the wing. Each of their planes was getting four lasers and obviously one receiver which would be put, if it was a biplane, on the back of the top wing and if it was a monoplane, propped up just behind the front cockpit.

"Oh yeah, I love ice cream," Matthew grinned excitedly at the thought of his favorite treat. "Uh, vanilla's fine yes…what? Oh yeah, I'm open tomorrow after school. Hm? Oh no, no! No need to apologize! I already told you that you're fine! It happens all the time…"

"Who're you talking to?" Yao asked, curiosity having gotten the better of him.

"Hm? Oh, Marco's his name. Hah, he thought I was Al one day and started harassing me…not in a good way either, I got a bad bruise on my arm and he could've given me a concussion…" he hung his head slightly at the negative memory before perking up (it seems like Alfred and Matthew share that trait). "We became friends though after he finally understood that I wasn't Alfred."

"Hm. That's a really weird story," Yao hummed, smiling nonetheless.

Matthew laughed lightly and shook his head. "Yeah…pretty weird," he then returned to his conversation with Marco. "O-oh! Sorry, that was Yao I was talking to—you know? I think I told you about his once…yeah, that guy. Anyways, I really think you should come over to the hangar sometime, even if Alfred's here, there are a lot of really nice people here," he smiled. "Yeah, yeah! Well, we really don't do anything super specific—right now Al and Francis, my boyfriend," he slightly stuttered over the word 'boyfriend'. "W-well, not right now, but not too long ago they were playing laser tag with the rigs I'm going to put on their planes within time. What's wrong?"

Yao smiled at looked at Alfred, Francis, David and Arthur who were all currently mulling rather comically over where to put the lasers on David's plane. Francis was atop the top wing, hanging his arms and head over the edge and Alfred was currently trying to get up there as well, laughing and snorting about something Arthur must've said. David was worrying about his wings being bent if they add more weight and Francis reassured the Indian boy that they wouldn't break. Arthur then leant closer to David and muttered something that was likely along the lines of 'even if he's an awesome engineer, don't believe everything he says'.

"Oh, okay that's good," Matthew looked up at the ceiling to the hangar. "Yup. How about a Caribou Coffee? The one on France Avenue (3)? Yeah that one—well, I'm not sure if it's literally _on_ France Avenue, but it's pretty close," Matthew smiled. "Oh, so it is on it—m'kay, awesome. Yeah, you can pick me up after school. Thanks, see you tomorrow."

Matthew grinned at Yao. "Man, things are going so well right now—got a new friend I'm going to start hanging out with, Arthur's out of his wheelchair tomorrow, you dropped by and we've got these awesome rigs started (4)," he shook his head and Yao returned his attention to the other four just as Alfred fell off of the wing he was climbing up on.

Why had he started avoiding them in the first place? Because Arthur lied? That was dumb—because he lied so Alfred could sit with them right? Ivan was saying things, but Yao was sure that they weren't true giving who these guys were. They weren't as bad as Ivan was making them, though sometimes they were kind of annoying and strange. Dolts if you must.

Man, who was he kidding? These guys were the best friends one could _ever_ ask for.

III

"Hey, where are you going Mattie?" Alfred asked once Matthew turned down a hall they didn't really use when they were leaving school together.

"Hm? Oh, I'm off to meet a friend," he smiled, waving a hand at Alfred. "I'll meet you guys at the hangar later 'kay?" he continued and turned without waiting for Alfred's response.

"Uh…okay, I'll see you…" he muttered before placing a hand on his hip. Something negative surfaced in his mind before he brushed it off. "Ugh, who Mattie hangs out with if none of my business," he muttered to himself, looking back up at his cousin just as he turned a corner. With a sigh, Alfred continued on for the front exit.

Matthew joyfully whistled Dancing with Myself as he strolled down the hall and to the second parking lot the school owned. He was soon greeted by Marco at the door.

"Hola Matthew," he started before throwing a cup of vanilla ice cream at the Canadian who caught it easily with a smile.

"Hey Marco, thanks," he looked back up at the Cuban who nodded his head and they started for Marco's old, hand-me-down car. "You should come visit the hangar like I said, I think everyone's gonna be there—even heard that Francis's friend Ludwig will be there if you want to talk to someone sane," he laughed lightly as they stepped into the car.

"Maybe—teachers dumped a whole bunch of homework on me, so I'm not exactly sure. I'll have to find time."

"Oh, that's a shame," Matthew shook his head as Marco started up the rusty car. "How old is this car?"

"Almost as old as I am," he huffed as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Can barely get me to school as you can see from me being parked in the second parking lot," he continued with a grin and Matthew smiled back. "Alright, you're going to have to give me directions 'cause I have no idea where France Avenue is."

As they drove, Matthew not being all that great with giving directions, they got off track a few times after Matthew accidentally told Marco to go one way instead of the other. Eventually though, they made it to the Caribou Coffee and Matthew grinned at the sight of a few cars that looked rather familiar.

"Hey, want to go sit with them? Those are the guys that I hang out with in the hangar," Matthew pointed Francis, Alfred, David, Yao and Arthur out, the five currently laughing about something likely absurd either Alfred or Francis had said—Francis still had his goggles on at the moment too.

"Ah, no—let's not," Marco declined and grabbed Matthew's wrist, leading him over to an empty table by the window. Matthew looked over at his group of friends as David said something that made Alfred laugh. His cousin then added something to David's remark that made everyone laugh.

"Um, okay," Matthew muttered as he seated himself in one of the two seats. He looked back over at his friends as Alfred began making overdramatic arm movements, Arthur being forced to duck out of the way if he didn't want to be hit.

"So, what would you like? I'm paying by the way."

"Oh cool! Yeah, I'd like a hot chocolate," Matthew grinned and Marco looked out the window with a slightly dumbfound expression.

"Uh…it's sixty (Fahrenheit) out there…" he pointed out and Matthew shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Well, it might as well be zero tomorrow," he reasoned and Marco chuckled at Matthew's slightly strange, but true statement.

"Yeah, that's Minnesota for ya isn't it?" he then stood up and started heading over to order their drinks and probably a bit more. Matthew sighed and glanced over at his friends for a third time. David and Alfred currently had their arms slung around each other's shoulders and they were singing rather obnoxiously and loudly probably just to annoy people—it was definitely working on Arthur.

Marco eventually returned, two cups and two cookies in hand. He handed Matthew his hot chocolate and a cookie he had bought for him as he seated himself down in the seat across from Matthew's. "So, you play any sports?"

"Huh? Oh yeah! I love to play hockey—was on the team earlier this year 'cause well…the season was sill goin' on and stuff, just, whatever. Anyways—how about you? Do you play any sports?"

"I've been playing baseball ever since I was young," Marco remarked, taking a sip of whatever he had ordered.

"Oh really? Al used to play baseball, though he stopped and started getting into the acting business," Matthew grinned and Marco grunted once he set the cup down on the table. He didn't verbally point out that he didn't like talking about Alfred, so he went with changing the subject instead.

"So, do you visit ice rinks in the summer since ya know…hockey's a winter sport?"

"Well baseball's a summer sport and yeah, I visit ice rinks often," Matthew's grin widened. "I plan on taking Francis with me someday and see if he knows how to ice skate," he continued, before gulping down a large amount of piping hot chocolate, somehow managing to not burn himself. Marco frowned once more at the mentioning of the second person he didn't exactly want to talk about, so he changed the subject again.

Matthew was about to answer the question Marco had asked him when someone pounded against the window very loudly, making Matthew yelp and fall out of his seat. He looked at what seemed to be Francis who had his whole torso pressed up against the window, eyes crossed and tongue sticking out to make a rather comical facial expression.

The muffled sound of Alfred laughing his ass off made its way to Matthew's ears and he looked over to see Alfred basically rolling on the ground, laughing his ass off—well, he was close to the rolling on the ground part, the laughing his ass off part was already done. They all began laughing along with each other and walked off, Alfred hanging off of David, he was laughing so hard.

Chuckling almost breathlessly, Matthew pulled himself back into his seat, heart still beating quickly from the sudden jump. "E-eh…heh, sometimes I really doubt that Francis is in college…" he muttered, grabbing his hot chocolate just so he had something to hold onto giving that the chairs had no armrests. "S-so, what'll you be doing over summer?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing much, vacation, baseball of course and a bit of lawn care with mi papa," he waved a hand in the air almost carelessly.

"Oh? Lawn care? Like mowing the lawn and landscaping or something like that?"

"Yup," Marco nodded his head. "It's good work and it gets you outside—what're you doing over the summer?"

"Uh…well, I think I'm going to an air show with Al in June, July, can't remember…Uh…I'll see what Al can come up with for us, I never really have anything planned for the summer, so it's not very eventful like I wish it was," he shook his head, though now that he knew Francis, Arthur, Yao and David, he had a feeling that this summer would be so much more different than previous ones and in a good way. "I should get going too," he pointed out. "Thanks for bringing me here."

"Ah, no problem—maybe we can do this again sometime?" he offered and Matthew grinned at the idea.

"Sure—just drop me off at my place—I have somewhere to be."

III

Matthew sighed when he saw that Alfred and Francis had returned to goofing off with his lasers once more. Seriously—couldn't they leave those things along just long enough for Matthew to make enough? Looking over, he spotted David and Yao inspecting what looked like a new propeller on Yao's biplane. He was kind of impressed—did Francis seriously get that thing in just today? And they had just figured out about it yesterday. He also caught a glimpse of Ludwig who was seated on one of the crates, looking like he wasn't exactly believing what he was seeing.

"Hey Ludwig, what's up?" Matthew greeted bravely. He needed to talk to people more.

"Hm? Oh hello. Who're you (5)?" Ludwig slid off of the edge of the crates and they shook hands, Matthew wincing slightly at how tightly Ludwig grasped his own slightly small hand.

"I'm Matthew Williams—Al's cousin," Matthew introduced himself, flexing his fingers slightly after Ludwig let go of him. "Well…you _are_ Ludwig right? Francis's dorm room partner or whatever you guys call them these days?"

"Yes, you are correct," Ludwig nodded his head. Matthew noted that he hadn't seen Ludwig even though the German and Francis were…slight friends he assumed—he didn't know, maybe they got along better than Ludwig let on. "So, I know I've been here before, but I can't just help but ask—these are the guys that keep Francis away aren't they?"

"Heh, yup," Matthew chuckled as he turned to look at the group. Yao was now in the cockpit of his plane and Arthur in his own, tinkering with the control panel. Francis and Alfred had briefly stopped their laser tag game, Alfred now pestering Arthur, leaning extremely close to Arthur's face, which was by the way, a dark red. Matthew could only assume Alfred was trying to be Francis—either that, or Francis rubbed off on people. The latter was very, _very_ likely.

Alfred looked over his shoulder and spotted Matthew. Turning back to say something to Arthur, Alfred jumped off of the wing he was sitting on and bound over to Matthew with a huge, toothy grin stretching his lips. "Dude, Mattie, you totally jumped when Bonerfoy hit the window!" he piped, jumping up on the crate so he was sitting next to Matthew.

"Ugh…yeah, I know that," Matthew groaned and Francis joined them, jumping in the spot in between Ludwig and Matthew.

"That was a good one," he snickered and Matthew huffed along with hung his head. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a finger cast on Francis's right ring finger.

"Oh! What happened?" he immediately went to worrying, taking Francis's right hand in his own.

"Broke it as Ludwig and I were replacing Yao's propeller," the Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and pulled his hand out of Matthew's. "It's no problem—really, it didn't even hurt~"

Ludwig snorted and rolled his eyes as he scooted a tad away from the Frenchman since they were basically pressed together with the limited amount of space. "As far as I know, you acted like what you look like."

"Are you saying that I look like a girl?"

Alfred snickered at that and slid off of the crates once more, bounding back over to Arthur's Jungmann and hauling himself up onto the bottom wing. "Didn't I tell you not to do that?"

"Oh come on, Bonerfoy said it isn't bad for the plane," Alfred waved a hand carelessly in the air. Arthur muttered something under his breath before Alfred pulled him closer so that they cheeks were pressed together. "Love ya Artie—come on, let's fly."

Arthur smiled at the random display of affection and kissed Alfred quickly on the lips before handing him a headset. "Sure, let's fly."

XXXX

**Dancing With Myself by Billy Idol**

**(1) Dogs can't eat raisins – Dogs actually can't eat raisins or grapes. There's something in them that's poisonous to them…They can eat a little, but too much will kill them. D:**

**(2) Dogs can't eat dark chocolate, but can milk chocolate – That's also true, it's just dark chocolate that makes dogs sick or can kill them. Same goes with fresh garlic/onions, I think coffee beans and a few other things. :3 I'm such a nerd…**

**(3) France Avenue – Hell yeah it's a real avenue dammit and holy hell, I just realized how close I live to France. O_O In a way… XD**

**(4) All the good things Matthew lists that I don't feel like repeating – Mwahahaha...whatever goes up must come down (like the Stock Mar—shutting up O_O)**

**(5) Who're you? – For some reason, I was very amused when I typed that.**

** Ivan's not done with them, I swear to God, IVAN'S NOT DONE WITH THEM YET. Sorry if I made it sound like he was. :P Baaw, that ending was random :P Hey, at least it isn't word lacking :3 This is like…longer than I've been doing recently :P So bleh—I've said so above that I think I'm all talked/typed out :P So yeah. Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**

**Fun Fact: Amelia Earhart had trouble landing her plane. Maybe that's why she went missing…**


	34. Chapter 34

** I'm super happy right now for some reason. :3 Maybe it's because the 'stock market' (Al and his gang) is starting to crash again. Lol, I love referring to them as the stock market…**

**XXXX**

Matthew looked up when someone rested their hand on the edge of the table he and Marco were seated at. "Hey Mattie—what's up?" Alfred asked, a grin stretching at his lips, though it was obvious that he was masking irritation that was flashing vividly in his blue eyes. Matthew furrowed his eyebrows and leant an elbow on the table so he could look up at his cousin in a more comfortable position.

"Get lost," Marco grunted before Matthew could reply to Alfred's rude greeting. The American's eyebrows furrowed and his grin immediately dissolved—he was probably frowning and forced on a grin.

"Make me," he retorted sourly and Marco stood up quickly, eye narrowing.

"Come on Matthew—it's warm enough to eat outside," he muttered darkly, still glaring at Alfred who was glaring back just as heatedly. "Don't want some American filth contaminating out lunch."

"Marco—"

"Oh, like Cubans are any more sanitary?" Alfred cocked an eyebrow smugly, crossing his arms and holding his head high.

"Alfred! Stop picking fights!" he snapped, going as far as shoving Alfred away. His cousin adopted the look of pure confusion at Matthew's slight outburst as he let himself stumble a bit. "It's only going to make things worse—as you can see!" he continued, motioning to Ivan who was sitting somewhere in the background, likely mulling over why Yao had suddenly stopped hanging around him.

"What do you mean?"

"You just fight everyone that doesn't appeal to you!" Matthew tried to clarify. "…Okay, David's an exception, but still!" he shook his hand to point out Ivan even further if Alfred hadn't seen the Russian yet. "You just—!"

"Okay—who are you picking fights with now?" Arthur asked as he approached the scene, large eyebrows furrowed. Alfred stuttered at Arthur's question, mostly at the 'picking fights with' part. The Briton glanced at the large Cuban and recognized him as the guy he had wondered about one day and the guy that was sitting with Matthew at the Caribou Coffee about a week or two ago. "Who're you?" he asked, pointing at Marco.

"He's Marco, the disease carrier."

"Better than a wannabe jock—STD's and all."

"Okay, okay you two—enough with the horribly offensive insults!" Arthur cut in, smacking Alfred on the head, making sure that it hurt the other. "Cool it."

"But—!"

"Alfred, picking fights only lead to bad things as far as I'm concerned," Yao remarked, placing a hand on the American's shoulder. "So back off," he continued and Alfred pressed his lips into a thin line. He clenched and unclenched his fists before stepping back, giving Marco a look that clearly read 'this doesn't mean I'm giving in' before turning his back on the two and walking away with Yao. Arthur glanced down at Matthew and Marco, the two now standing from the small incident that had just occurred. Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Matthew was still getting used to seeing Arthur out of his wheelchair, having gotten slightly used to either looking level when he was sitting or looking down whenever he was standing. He and Alfred were almost the same height according to Yao. Looking at a now sour Marco, Matthew smiled the best he could before frowning. "Please…I know you two have a…rather turbulent past, but I don't want all of my friends to be in some sort of war with each other."

"I'm not 'warring' with him," Marco muttered, glaring down at his food before sighing heavily. "Yeah—sorry about that."

"_What in bloody hell was all of that about_?" Arthur hissed as he forced Alfred down into his seat.

Alfred crossed his arms moodily and furrowed his eyebrows. "I was just trying to protect Mattie away from bad people," Alfred muttered childishly and Arthur cocked an eyebrow at Alfred's slightly strange answer.

"No Al—you can't do that. You can't monitor everything Matthew does and everyone he befriends," Arthur remarked sternly. "You're sounding like an overprotective parent—you can't protect someone from everything."

Alfred simply crossed his arms rather stubbornly and glanced off to the side. "I can try."

"Don't."

III

Arthur strolled into the hangar, slightly expecting something. It was Saturday and the weather was extremely nice for flying—just warm enough to make the breeze pleasant. "Artie~!" what he was expecting was coming soon. "Artie~! Guess what day it is~?" Alfred happily chimed, spinning Arthur in happy circles after swooping him into his arms.

Smiling, he pressed his cheek into Alfred's chest contently. "Alfred, stop spinning me," he requested. That was one habit Alfred had yet to drop—spinning hugs. When Alfred set Arthur down, he began playing with Arthur's choppy blond hair, grinning dumbly down at Arthur. "And yes Al—I know it's my birthday."

"_Happy birthday Artie~!_" Alfred borderline squealed. "I've been working on this card for such a long time too!" he continued, handing Arthur a simple piece of multipurpose paper that had writing in multiple colors all over it. On the front was a plethora of words—Arthur only understood 'Te amo' and 'Je T'aime', so he assumed that they all said 'I love you'. Alas, when he opened it, I love you was on the inside along with 'Happy Birthday!' written in Alfred's sloppy handwriting.

Arthur couldn't stop smiling when he flipped it closed once more to inspect the cover. "You even went as far as putting French on it…"

"Well yeah! Bonerfoy was really confused when I told him to tell me what it was but all's well as you can see! I had to ask all of my friends because I wanted it all to be legit—ya know? I'm obviously lacking a few as you can see, but there's a lot right? I've got Spanish, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Italian—all of that good stuff!"

"How did you get a hold of so many people?" Arthur asked still smiling at the card in his hands.

"Oh, well I know a Korean guy—he's one of my acting buddies and he's super hyper. I obviously got the Chinese from Yao and the Japanese from my super amazing friend Kiku. Oh! I got the Lithuanian from Toris and Polish from his boyfriend Feliks. Obviously Russian isn't on there for a very good reason and another acting buddy of mine did the Hungarian and—oh there's just a lot on there—it's a very long story," he waved a hand in the air in a dismissing gesture.

"You know so many people Alfred…" Arthur smiled up at his boyfriend. "I don't know anyone."

"What? Oh come on! Okay, so before me, you had Bonerfoy and Antonio—but look at you now! You've got Yao, David, me, Mattie—and you can make even more with all of the connections we have! Plus, we're like, super good friends—all four of us. I don't think you'll ever lose us, that's the cool part—we're like, the friends forever group or something—I don't know how to explain it."

"Yeah but…I like being a bit of a loner," Arthur approached one of the crates and placed the card atop it.

"Come on! There's still some more to come!" Alfred grinned, grabbing Arthur's hand and guiding him excitedly to his plane which was parked next to Yao's, Francis's and David's. Arthur entwined their fingers and he thought about it all. If it hadn't been for Alfred approaching him in the first place, he wouldn't be getting all of this. His father could care less about him obviously. Normally on his birthday, his father would've already been out early in the morning to get smashed. Then, later at night, he'd get smashed again. Francis was nice—he'd get something interesting for him every year for his birthday. One day, back when it was Arthur's first year in America, Francis had gotten him a RC helicopter. It was obviously a bit expensive, but he lied about it not being much money—Arthur didn't know he was partially rich back then. The thing stayed at Francis's place though since his father would flip if he saw it (mainly because of how expensive it looked).

Antonio would just say happy birthday and give him a warm hug and that was it. Ludwig would just nod in his direction and back when he was still crushing on the German, he was extremely disappointed with the lack of communication in between the two of them.

"Check. It. Out," Alfred grinned, motioning to Arthur's plane. Even though there weren't huge changes, Arthur recognized the lasers on the wings of his biplane. Smiling, he jumped up onto one of them and peeked into the cockpit, spotting the small piece of software Matthew had somehow gotten wired into his plane. Alfred got up on the opposite wing, grinning at Arthur. "We kinda had to pull it apart a bit with Ludwig's help and all of that," Alfred mentioned to the receiver above their heads. "But all's well—it looks perfect! Look, we even got everyone else's planes done!" he motioned to the other three planes, David inspecting one of the lasers at the moment.

Jumping into the seat, Arthur turned on the software in the plane and pressed the trigger to the 'gun' on his plane. Immediately, the four lasers attached to the wings began flashing one at a time, imitating real guns on a plane. "Oh, this is so cool," Arthur grinned.

"Yeah, Mattie still wants to put some receivers on the wings to make it a bit more realistic you know? Like, they'll just be smaller, small point givers or something—this is point based like a real laser game so the wings would be less point, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean Alfred—come on, I think we should try it out."

"Oh God, I've been _waiting_ for you to say that!" Yao sighed dramatically, jumping into the cockpit to his plane and pulling his goggles over his head along with a headset. "ROCAF's totally going to shoot you all out of the sky!"

"No way! We're going to win!" Alfred grinned, taking the headset Arthur was handing to him and placed it over his head. "Hurry up David! Let's get this party started!"

Ludwig glanced up at the sky, spotting three planes chasing after each other. He was barely able to register the lasers being shot from the rigs Matthew had created along with Francis and Alfred as the planes corkscrewed after each other. "Ugh…they better not wreck those…" he muttered.

_"We're gonna get you David!_" Alfred called excitedly as Arthur was currently chasing after David who was surprisingly able to avoid getting hit. It was a bit of a shock obviously because David couldn't really do any fantastic aerobatics, Arthur's plane was designed for aerobatics and Arthur was just downright a phenomenal pilot. "_Go Artie, go, go!"_

"_Don't let your guard down!_" came Yao's voice.

"_Oh! Artie, quick be—GYAH!" _Alfred wailed when the plane went into a ninety degree nosedive, going straight down, Yao following after him in tight corkscrews. Alfred began laughing euphorically before looking up when the receiver began blinking. "_Artie—we've been hit!"_

"_I've got you now! England stands no chance against China and India!_" Yao cried triumphantly as Alfred looked over his shoulder, Yao still shooting at them and David not too far behind.

"_Damn it Artie—we're being ganged up on! Where are those pussy French pilots? England's in trouble!"_

"Don't doubt me Alfred! I can take them all on my own!" Arthur grinned, pulling his plane up so that they were now flying directly up into the sky, their ascent just as steep as their descent. Yao easily followed while David had to fly his plane upright for a bit before following after them. Arthur threw the plane into a horizontal spin, the nose pointed at Yao's plane the whole time.

"_Gyah! China will get revenge!"_

"_Holy hell Artie—that was amazing! Do it again! Do it again!"_ Alfred laughed gleefully as Arthur flew his plane away from Yao's, David's soon on his tail. Arthur pulled the Jungmann into a loop before they were flying completely upside down. "_Gah! Artie, I'm gonna fall out! I'm gonna fall out! I know I'm not, but I feel like I am, so I'M GONNA FALL OUT!" _Alfred panicked and Arthur laughed lightly to himself.

David tried to follow, but the loop was a bit confusing so he settled with turning around, the maneuver requiring quite a bit of space and sapped quite a bit of precious 'shooting' time. Arthur was already headed after Yao.

_"Ha, ha! I'll never doubt you Artie! Not ever again—promise!"_

Ludwig approached the side of the runway as Arthur landed his plane, being the last one to do so. Alfred grinned toothily and waved excitedly at the German. "Sup Luddy!" he was super pumped with energy at the moment. He followed Arthur's plane into the hangar and approached them once Arthur had turned off the engine.

"Ah, hello Ludwig," Arthur smiled, waving a hand before jumping out of the biplane, Alfred following. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just here to talk a bit with you. Uh…has anything happened with Francis or anything? He hasn't gotten out of bed yet…" Ludwig awkwardly jabbed a thumb over his shoulder for no specific reason. Arthur checked the time on his phone, it being ten in the morning. "He normally is up at seven thirty, whether he has a hangover or not—so I was just wondering."

Frowning a bit, Arthur took the headset off of his head. "I'll text him—hopefully he'll respond," he said, opening a new text.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Ludwig agreed, sighing a bit stressfully.

**[Angleterre]**

**Hey, Ludwig's worried about you, what's wrong?**

He stared down at his phone before closing it with a sigh when he didn't get an instant reply. Alfred and Francis were both quick to reply, that's one thing he had picked up early in their conversations over texts. "Is he asleep or what?"

"Well…he's obviously awake, but is just staring up at the ceiling. I came back in a bit after the first time I checked and he had wrapped the blankets around himself," Ludwig explained and Arthur nodded his head, pulling his phone out when it began vibrating in his pocket.

**[French Frog]**

**Nothing.**

Okay, that meant something was wrong.

**[Angleterre]**

**What's wrong?**

**[French Frog]**

**I told you it's nothing.**

**[French Frog]**

**I'm sick.**

**[Angleterre]**

**No you're not. What's wrong?**

**[French Frog]**

**I feel sick, but thermometer says I'm not.**

**[Angleterre]**

**That's a load of bollocks. What's wrong? You know I hate having to repeat myself.**

Arthur stared down at his phone, enduring the long pause that followed. It was so long that Alfred began talking with Yao and Arthur considered leaving to confront Francis personally.

**[French Frog]**

**Matthew.**

Did it seriously take him that long to type those seven letters (eight if you included the period)?

**[French Frog]**

**Now leave me alone.**

**[Angleterre]**

**What happened?**

**[French Frog]**

**I'm sick. Leave me alone **(1)**.**

Arthur threw his phone on the ground in frustration and stormed off. Alfred stopped talking with Yao at the abrupt display of irritation Arthur was now showing as he left the hangar. Grinning sheepishly at Yao, Alfred excused himself and ran after Arthur.

Arthur, just as he was crossing the rest of the ground the airport owned, realized that he didn't have a car—he rode with Alfred. "Hey Artie!" looking over his shoulder, Arthur stopped and let Alfred approach him. "What's wrong?" he asked a slight hint of concern crossing over his expression.

"He is sick," Arthur ground out. "Give me your keys," he then demanded, holding out a hand. Blinking in a bit of confusion, Alfred absentmindedly reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his rusty truck and dropped them in Arthur's open palm. He watched Arthur turn and storm off to his truck, seating himself into it heavily, slamming the door shut and flooring the gas pedal from the loud screech the tires let out before driving off at a high speed.

"Ugh…Bonerfoy—what'd you do now?"

XXXX

**(1) I'm sick. Leave me alone – Lol, when I typed that, it reminded me of the "'e is sick. 'E 'as a terrible cold…" the voice actor for Francis did in the outtakes for season three. Oh, that's one of my favorite ones mainly because of the way he says it –w- Oh, but I really love the one where he's whistling and they can't stop laughing…Oh God, that's hard to do, I know what it's like. XD It kind of makes me want to be a voice actor, but alas, it's not my major… **

** Oh man, my updating schedule's super messed up as you can see…bleargh. Okay, I don't have anything else to say so please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends.**

**Fun Fact: Ursalia and Efisga were two of the many names suggested for the country that it now Canada.**


	35. Chapter 35

** Baaw, my house is cold and I'm hungry! ;A;**

**XXXX**

"Quit being Alfred and get out of bed," Arthur ground out. After he had driven off in a rather sour mood, Arthur had enough time to think out what he was going to say to his old friend. Obviously he first was going to demand what happened after getting Francis to at least look at him.

The Frenchman simply replied by placing a pillow over his head. "Argh! Get! Up!" he demanded, stomping a foot on the floor. The mechanic continued to stubbornly keep the pillow over his head and Arthur soon had to stomp over and pry it off. "Francis, by God, what in bloody hell happened? It isn't like you to sulk!" he continued, furrowing his large eyebrows down at the college student.

"I am sick…" he muttered into the bed sheets.

"_You are NOT sick!"_ Arthur exploded in a fit of intense irritation. "Sit up!" he then demanded and Francis reluctantly did so, sending the British pilot a sour look. "Now," he started with a sigh in an attempt to calm himself. "Tell me what happened."

"I saw Matthew with that guy," Francis started in a deadpan. Arthur nodded his head, having noticed that Matthew and Marco had been hanging out with each other quite a bit lately. "And I approached them—just for a friendly talk. When I said 'hi', Matthew flipped on me. Not sure why though," he shrugged his shoulders and Arthur nodded his head again. "I asked him why he got so angry and he told me to leave. I didn't of course, but when he got a bit angrier, I had to."

Arthur remembered how Matthew had flipped on Alfred as well out of seemingly nowhere—now on Francis? What was going on here? "And as I was leaving, I heard Matthew apologize to that guy about me interrupting their 'time together' as if I were some nuisance," Francis added, gaze falling to the ground as if weighed down by a ton of bricks.

"That's not like him," Arthur pointed out bluntly.

"Maybe he's tired of me."

"Belt up!" he irritation was rising again. Matthew _and_ Francis weren't being themselves apparently. "You're not being _you_ frog!" he said and Francis simply stared almost blankly up at him.

"Maybe I should leave him alone," Francis concluded, having refused to pick up the topic Arthur had started. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, holding his tongue for he had some pretty nasty words on the tip of it. Taking a deep breath in another attempt to cool himself, Arthur looked down at his friend.

"Nothing's going to happen if you don't do anything about it," he pointed out, all signs of irritation having vanished.

"Yeah, well Matthieu deserves to be with who he wants to be with," Francis muttered and Arthur refused to get angry again. Shaking his head, he decided that coming here was pointless other than getting the story out of Francis.

"Fine. I'll leave you alone too then," he said, back turned to Francis before he left the small room.

III

Even though it was lunchtime, Arthur felt like he could just go home and go back to sleep after returning from Francis's dorm. Stepping out of the truck that was dangerously low on fuel, Arthur sauntered wearily over to the hangar—being angry sapped quite a bit of energy from you. When he entered, the first thing he said was a demand. "Where's my phone?"

"Here…" Alfred grinned sheepishly, waving the phone in the air limply. "Uh…you don't look really happy with your results…" he added as Arthur snatched the device from his boyfriend's hand. "What happened anyways? I don't really think someone would be that angry at someone else for getting sick…"

"Matthew and Francis are having…complications," Arthur sighed. Furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head to the side, Alfred asked what the problem was. "Matthew apparently freaked out on Francis when he was with Marco and demanded that Francis leave," he shook his head.

Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "Uh…that really doesn't sound like Mattie at all…"

"Yeah, well Francis isn't acting like himself either," Arthur huffed as he heaved himself on top of one of the crates. Ludwig approached the two, looking a bit curious.

"So…I believe it didn't go very well? What's wrong with him?" he asked, itching at the back of his head awkwardly, not exactly used to worrying about the French pilot giving his happy-go-lucky attitude.

"Oh just…relationship complications," Alfred answered, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "It's…complicated…" boy that sounded dumb. Ludwig nodded his head and sighed. "Hey Artie, I think I should go talk to Mattie because well…he's just being really weird right now," Alfred then suggested. "Where's my keys?"

Arthur fished out the keys and dropped them in Alfred's open palm with a 'you're low on gas' before leaning back on the crate. "But yeah, that does sound like a good idea—do it a bit later though, around dinner time maybe," he agreed. Alfred nodded his head, grinned and heaved himself up onto the crate as well, tugging Arthur closer to his side.

"I guess we all have out ups and downs eh?" he grinned at Arthur who sent him a look that clearly read 'do not mention it ever again—the crash'. Yao approached them, jumping onto the crates as well.

"What's up Arthur? You don't look very happy," he pointed out the obvious and Arthur could only roll his eyes. He didn't like repeating himself like stated earlier.

III

"Totally—ha, ha, awesome lock picking powers for the win," Alfred snickered as he shoved the door to Matthew's home open. Luckily for him, Matthew's home didn't have an alarm system though it really should giving how easily Alfred just got in. Thinking a bit more about it, Alfred hadn't been to Matthew's home in quite a while. "M'kay, where should I start? Mattie? Mattie—where are youu~?" he began trudging through the house, loudly calling for his cousin. He approached Matthew's bedroom door and knocked on it as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. "Mattie? You in there buddy?"

After a brief moment of nothing, he tried to handle to find it unlocked. "Hm, awesome conveniences at the right time powers for the win," he snickered to himself again before pushing the door wide open. Nobody was in the room at the moment…

Humming, Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and walked into the kitchen—Matthew normally was home for dinner unless he went out with…Marco…He grunted angrily at the thought and opened a cupboard, taking out a glass. Holding it out, he let it dangle for a moment before dropping it, the thing shattering into multiple pieces.

Nothing.

Matthew _always_ came when Alfred broke something. He _better_ not be with Marco, and with that, Alfred left the house without cleaning up the shattered glass. Pulling out his phone as he went down the steps that led to the front door, Alfred speed dialed Matthew's mobile. There were about two rings before the third was cut off. "_H-hello?_" Matthew's voice sounded broken and tired.

"Mattie! What happened?" Alfred demanded, immediately beginning to worry about his relative when he heard the tone of his voice. "Where are you? Why do you sound like that?" he continued to question as he quickly jumped into the driver's seat.

"_…Fiftieth and France…well, pretty close. In an alley is all I know…"_ Matthew answered and Alfred immediately jumped to conclusions. Was Matthew mugged? Did Marco beat him or rape him? He _better_ not have rapped his dear cousin because he might have to start a fight over that.

"Okay Mattie…I'm coming so just stay put," he ordered sternly as he drove off. It took quite a bit of driving since there were quite a bit of buildings to look in between since Matthew had said that he was in an alley. He hit the brakes, causing the person behind him to honk their horn in anger when he spotted someone sitting with their back propped up against the wall in an alley. The person that was behind him flipped him the bird as they drove by, but Alfred paid them no heed, immediately parking his rusting truck and jumping out without cutting the engine.

"Dude! What happened? Did Marco do this? I'm going to—"

"No Alfred! No, he didn't," Matthew hastily interrupted, shaking his head wildly. He was lacking his glasses and had quite a few of bruises and cuts that were likely caused by a switchblade. "I-I was with Marco…I think a bit east from here and, and these four guys started flirting with me 'cause they probably thought that I was a girl and…" he blushed as he said that, but Alfred didn't tease him. "And then…" he sniffed. "And then Marco got really angry at them and we all got into this huge fight…I got hurt, obviously, and when I managed to get away since Marco told me to…just as I was turning I corner I think I saw a few police arrive on the scene…Al…Al I think they all got arrested," he sniffed again, fighting the tears that were likely threatening to spill now.

Alfred knelt down and hugged his cousin close as Matthew continued to sniff and look like he was about to burst out in tears every now and then. "A-and I'm was a jerk to Francis yesterday…He looked really hurt when I told him to leave, I-I just thought that he was assuming things kind of like how you were trying to keep me away from Marco yesterday and, and—"

"Arthur told me that Francis said he'll start avoiding you or something along those lines…" he knew it was cruel to bust it to Matthew, but the guy needed to know what he had done. Alfred guiltily closed his eyes as his look alike relative started sobbing brokenly.

"A-Al, I-I've lost a friend to th-the law and now, and now…!"

"Come on, can you stand? Let's go to the hospital and get these things checked out…I'm no doctor," Alfred changed the subject in hopes of getting Matthew's mind off of his current troubles. "C'mon Mattie, you were always the smart one when I was having trouble with Artie…I never really imagined that this would happen with you and Francis," he continued, voice thick with concern. Bonerfoy clearly wasn't the proper thing to call Matthew's boyfriend at the moment. "Come on…I promise, you won't have to stay for a night—these don't look that bad…"

"I-I hate that place…" Matthew's voice was laced with misery and slight dread at the idea of going to the hospital once more—they've visited it so much lately. First when Arthur and Matthew got shot, then when Arthur crashed, when Alfred fought Ivan and now. He vaguely reminded himself that Francis had probably been there more since he broke his finger not too long ago—he also vaguely remembered Arthur telling him that Francis crashed when he was trying aerobatics.

"I told you, they don't look that bad, you probably won't even be there for more than three hours, now come on—can you stand?" he asked as he started to stand himself, one hand firmly gripping Matthew's in an attempt to tug him up with him.

"Yeah…I-I can stand…" Matthew muttered, voice barely over a whisper and it reminded Alfred of when Matthew was an extreme introvert when he was young.

"Don't use that voice Mattie…you know I don't like it…" he said and Matthew numbly nodded his head.

III

Arthur approached Alfred and seated himself next to the taller. "Ugh…some things never change."

"Heh…it's like this place is our destiny…" Alfred grinned in a weak attempt to make himself sound lighthearted. Arthur rolled his eyes and leant forward to kiss Alfred quickly on the lips before leaning back and picking up a random magazine, not exactly caring about what it was on. Alfred simply snickered. "That's a women's fashion magazine Artie…"

Arthur quickly closed it and tossed it on the table before picking up a sports one, glaring over to top at Alfred who continued to snicker at his pilot of a boyfriend. He wished he could snap a photo with how comical it looked, he had the perfect angle at the moment. "So what happened? Why're we here?" he then asked.

"Oh yeah, sorry, um…Mattie and Marco were just hangin' out hopefully and these four guys started flirting with him and stuff like that and…shit went down. Uh…Marco attacked them and Mattie got involved somehow and then he had to run away and he thinks that they were all arrested for a night or two or something like that and I picked him up and yeah. Now we're here."

"You're not the best story teller," Arthur muttered as he turned a page calmly. Alfred huffed and picked up another sports magazine with a 'what makes you better?'. They shared a brief moment of silent reading before a nurse approached them with Matthew following not too far behind.

"He's fine—just needs to let the bruises heal and apply this," she held up a tube of something. "to his cuts every morning. Other than that, he's perfectly fine, but it's good that you brought him here, those cuts looked like they could get infected pretty badly."

"Aw, awesome," Alfred grinned before glancing hopefully at his cousin. "See? You weren't here for more than three hours," he said, voice matter-of-fact. Matthew almost lifelessly nodded his head in response before Arthur stood up and motioned with his fingers for Matthew to follow him. As the two left, Alfred had left with receiving the rest of the information, sending Arthur a look of betrayal.

"What's with the face?" Arthur asked, raising in eyebrows in concern, voice thick with said emotion. Matthew averted his gaze to the tiles on the floor to his right.

He then answered Arthur so quietly he thought he had just imagined it. "I lost a friend and Francis is going to break up with me…"

Arthur straightened up, furrowing his eyebrows. "And what makes you assume that?" he questioned sternly, placing his hands on his hips. Matthew almost guiltily glanced at Arthur before back at the floor below him.

"They avoid you. Then they break up with you."

"No," Arthur immediately replied and Matthew glanced up at Arthur curiously.

Matthew then hardened, eyebrows creasing and a frown tugging at his lips. "I've seen it Arthur. I've seen it with Alfred over and over—I know the signs."

"Well Francis doesn't do that, according to his book, it's either stay with them, or drop them right away," he pointed out, head still held high.

Matthew's hard expression dissolved immediately, likely not up to keeping that expression for long. "…Well then he can't read…"

"Exactly," Arthur grinned slightly up at Matthew who raised his eyebrows in slight surprise and interest as he snapped his fingers in an 'ah-ha!' sort of way. "He can't read in your language, so he writes in his own."

III

The following Sunday, Arthur had managed to drag Francis out of his dorm room so he could confront Matthew. The Canadian was off somewhere and Arthur assumed that he was off with Marco again giving that he heard from the news that one was only charged for one night—immediately identifying the face on the screen as Marco.

They turned a corner and found Matthew and Marco just separating from a hug and Francis smiled solemnly. "I told you…"

"No. Go talk to him whether Marco's there or not—be selfish for once," he demanded, shoving Francis forward, Marco and Matthew spotting him. Arthur sighed and flipped his phone open to call Alfred.

"Eh, let's finish your story later," Marco announced, pointing to Francis who Matthew had already caught sight of.

"Ah…bon—" Francis started, but was cut short when Matthew threw himself onto the Frenchman. He muttered something before going in for a kiss only to be met with the palm of Francis's hand.

"E-eh?"

"Mm…you should save those for the one you truly love…" Francis advised, though his voice wavered in the slightest. Matthew was clearly shocked at Francis's statement and began stuttering the word 'are' over and over as be backed off slightly. Francis then glanced at the ground. "Why'd I even come here?" he muttered under his breath—it obviously wasn't supposed to be heard by both Matthew and Marco, and it obviously wasn't meant in the way Matthew took it.

"W-wha…?"

"No Alfred! This is a serious problem we're dealing with! You can talk about sex la—Francis, where in bloody hell are you—_shut up_ Alfred! This is serious!" Arthur hissed before following after Francis, eyebrows furrowing. "Francis!" he stopped next to Francis's car as the Frenchman seated himself heavily in the driver's seat. "Why are you leaving?" he demanded—he was downright pissed now.

"I told you he was already with that guy," Francis answered blankly before closing the door and driving off.

"_Francis you bloody wanker I'm going to—_Alfred, I told you to _shut up_!" with a frustrated wail, Arthur snapped his phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket. He then pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to take a few deep breaths along with count to ten—normally it'd work. With a sigh, Arthur let his hand fall to his side and trudged over to check up on Matthew and Marco.

Arthur watched as Matthew cried loudly, Marco awkwardly trying to comfort him as his friend sobbed brokenly into his chest about Francis breaking up with him. Arthur frowned—those two completely misunderstood each other big time.

…Well that plan backfired pretty badly.

**XXXX**

** I'm so cruel. Baaaw.**

**Fun Fact: Cafés were **_**huge **_**in Paris in the late 1700's. So popular that people spent more money on coffee than cheese (three million livres a year).**


	36. Chapter 36

** M'kay, I'm sorry for that epic delay that was epic…and long. So bleh. I was so excited about updating this that I decided to type it out the same night as I typed out the thirty ninth chapter to 'Don't Let it Get to Your Head'. Mainly because some crazy shit goes down with Matthew so enjoy~**

**XXXX**

Alfred sulked on his bed as Arthur paced back and forth in front of him, currently lecturing him. He was holding a surprisingly calm Iggy in his arms, the white puppy looking up to lick Alfred's chin every now and then in an attempt to cheer his strangely upset owner up. "And you're being too lighthearted! This situation clearly doesn't call for such behavior—we have to take this seriously!"

"Sorry…I just…it's a lot to handle, so I thought being a bit lighthearted might keep everyone from completely losing their heads…" Alfred muttered guiltily as he nuzzled one of Iggy's ears, the puppy looking up at his owner in response. Arthur sighed and placed his hands on his hips, giving Alfred the clear signal that he still didn't approve of it. He then sighed and let his hands fall to his sides, shaking his head.

"God those two…what in bloody hell could they be doing right now?" Arthur then asked mostly to himself instead of Alfred.

"Artie…they already have mothers to worry about them…" Alfred decided to point out and the pilot simply sent him a heated glare that immediately shut him up. The Briton continued with his pacing, thinking over what he should say next to Alfred. Unable to come up with anything else, Arthur sighed and seated himself in the space next to Alfred, falling onto his back not too long after taking the seat. "I plan on talking with Francis tonight about all of this…God, I mean, he just walked off like that!"

"I can't blame him…hey Artie, I should go talk with Mattie I just can't really calm down for some reason," Alfred shook his head.

"You can do that later Al…" Arthur muttered tiredly and Alfred shook his head urgently.

"No. Something doesn't feel right. I'm going, I'll see you later," he stood up, placing Iggy on the bed, the puppy watching him curiously. Alfred closed the door behind him and Arthur sighed, hugging Iggy close.

"He could've at least given me a kiss…" he muttered and Iggy stuck his head forward and licked Arthur on the lips, the pilot chuckling at the puppy's action. "Not you silly…"

III

Matthew sat on his bed, cross legged and hands in his lap. He stared down at his socked feet as tears continued to stream down his face from the earlier events that had happened not too long ago. Directly after Francis had left and Matthew had managed to calm himself down just enough to coherently tell Marco that he wanted him to drive him home. When they had arrived, Marco had asked him if he wanted him to stay with Matthew and the Canadian had declined the offer. With a wary look, Marco then drove off.

Matthew made it as far as past the front door before he sunk to his knees as if weighed down by a ton of bricks. Fresh tears began to stream down his face and he started sobbing brokenly to himself, unable to find the strength to even turn around and close the front door. He wallowed in his own heartbreak for twenty minutes before calming himself down enough once more to close the door and drag himself to his room.

He sniffed and wiped tears from his eyes only to have more spill out. His heart wouldn't stop squeezing painfully in his chest and the tears wouldn't stop. He didn't know if they would. He let out a shaky exhale and glanced at the door to his room that was currently locked. Licking his lips, Matthew slid off of the edge of the bed and drug himself over to the door and unlocked it. He opened it and then walked out. He briefly thought over what he was planning on doing and his reasoning made him stop in the middle of the hallway that led to the kitchen. Then the idea of Francis not loving him or wanting to be with him anymore produced more sorrow and he urged himself on.

Entering the kitchen, Matthew stopped in the middle, seeming lost in his own home. He looked around the kitchen in a brief moment of unfamiliarity before numbly approaching a drawer and pulling it open. With now terribly trembling hands, Matthew pulled out a medium sized kitchen knife. It took him a moment to realize that his heart was racing so fast that he was feeling lightheaded—his hands were shaking so badly, it was visible in the knife he was tightly grasping. He…didn't know what he was doing.

He turned it so the flat side of the knife was facing him, and he examined his extremely distraught expression on his reflection staring right back at him. His eyes were horribly red and puffy from all of the tears he had shed, his hair was a mess for some unknown reason and tear stains littered his cheeks.

Should he go for his throat or his heart?

…The heart would be faster. He didn't want it to last long, hopefully it wouldn't take too long, because Matthew couldn't imagine bearing the pain. The worst part about going for the neck was you might not go deep enough and would have to live the rest of your miserable life with a scar and the humiliation of a failed suicide attempt. It was probably messier than the heart too. The heart it was.

Matthew then noticed that his breaths had become extremely heavy with fear and shaky with sorrow as he raised the knife to bring down on the left side of his chest. The heart was on the left side right? Come on Mattie. You can do this. It's just one action and it'll all be over with. Nobody will miss you. Maybe Al. But that was it. Just one action. Don't mess it up Mattie…

The muscles in his arms tightened as he brought the knife towards his chest with as much force as he could, eyes squeezed shut. No pain so far. He heard the knife hit the ground, so he probably succeeded. Was he already dead then? It took Matthew a moment to realize the painful grip on his wrist and an arm wrapped tightly around his chest. He opened his eyes, which were surprisingly dry now. Probably won't stay like that for long. He spotted the knife on the floor just an inch from his foot, if it were a bit more to the right…ouch.

"Did you not hear me?" someone barked loudly in Matthew's ear, making him flinch. The person spun him around and Matthew spotted Alfred looking stuck in between relieved and extremely enraged. And Matthew probably looked like hell with how that expression immediately dissolved almost completely. His eyes were wide, tear stains clear on his cheeks, eyes red and puffy of course he'd observed the latter two in his reflection on the knife.

Then reality hit him. He had just tried to commit suicide. Breath quickening, Matthew blinked and more tears rolled down his cheeks. His heart was hurting from Francis breaking up with him and what he had just tried to do. Letting out a weak weep, Matthew threw himself into Alfred's arms and began sobbing into his cousin's chest. Alfred immediately hugged his relative closer in a wordless gesture that he was there for him as the Canadian continued to sob. "I-I-I don't want to die…"

"Then why'd you do that?" his voice was much softer than the angry, stern tone he'd used just a second ago. His response was sobbing as broken as the glass he had dropped on the floor yesterday which was not accompanied by the knife which had slid over to it. "Mattie…"

"I-I don't know…so-something just…I-I didn't know what I was doing…" Matthew sobbed into Alfred's chest. Sighing heavily, Alfred hugged Matthew tighter and pulled out his phone, flipping it open with the hand that was holding it.

**[American Idiot]**

**Mattie just tried to commit suicide.**

He then snapped his cellular shut and pat Matthew on the back. "Come on, let's go in the living room, the couch'll be a bit more comfortable," he suggested and Matthew almost hesitantly let go of Alfred. The American turned and walked into the living room before looking over his shoulder at his cousin who seemed lost in his own house. "Mattie? Are you okay? Come on…" he stepped back over to Matthew and took ahold of his wrist to guide him into the living room. It was strange and uncomfortable, it was like leading a blind person without their stick or seeing-eye dog. And this wasn't Matthew. Matthew, in Alfred's eyes, was the strong, reasonable one.

He seated Matthew on the couch and watched his cousin stare at the nothingness in front of him. "What made you do that? Like…do you think there was a reason?" there had to be. There always was a reason that drove someone to the ultimate decision of suicide. Alfred would bet his life on what it was because he knew what it was.

"…I think…I think Francis doesn't love me anymore…" Alfred was right.

**[Artie]**

**What? Oh my God, Al, I'm coming over (it seems you've improved your spelling/grammar).**

**[American Idiot]**

**The situation calls for it.**

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, Alfred returned his attention to the problem at hand. He pat Matthew on the shoulder, letting out an aggravated sigh. "You're misunderstanding it…"

"How am I misunderstanding it huh?" Matthew exploded, his voice cracking at the force of his demand and new tears continued to stream down.

"Well…firstly, he's not breaking up with you…"

"Then _how_ do you explain the avoiding? And the grimness? Huh? How do you explain it? He _knows_ my feelings are influenced easily and if he just comes out with it, I'll be heartbroken. Probably even more than now! He's _obviously_ trying to be nice about it! It's clear as daylight!" Matthew sobbed angrily, hands balled tightly into fists and Alfred actually feared that Matthew would physically lash out on him.

"S-slow down Mattie," Alfred urged, raising his hands in a harmless gesture. "Okay. That's what you're seeing. But what do you think _he's _seeing?" he then asked. Matthew immediately silenced and that look of pure rage and heartbreak dissolved into one of shock and realization. He remained silent though, so Alfred decided to continue, "I mean, just look at it through his eyes. You're hanging out quite a bit with Marco and you flip out on him when he approaches you when you're with Marco. He's going to assume things. He actually thinks you're with Marco."

"But…he's been avoiding me…" Matthew remarked almost mutely. Alfred had to strain himself to hear Matthew's reply.

"Again, you flipped out on him. Francis thought that he should just give you some space, he told Artie that, so I have evidence," Alfred answered sternly. They sat in silence for a long moment before a weak smile tugged at Matthew's lips.

"…Thanks…for telling me that…" his voice was just above a whisper and it had become sore.

Alfred grinned brightly back at his cousin. "Well…I guess you could say I'm paying back for when you helped me through my tough times…" he said and Matthew closed his eyes, still smiling. He then stood up and headed for the kitchen.

"I'm going to go clean up that glass you broke…" he announced and Alfred grinned. He knew Matthew would never be able to _not_ see that, in the middle of attempting suicide or not. He was Matthew. With a happy grin, he pulled out his phone, an idea striking him.

**[American Idiot]**

**u can cal me the hero from now on! savd matys life!**

He then stood up energetically and bound into the kitchen. "Hey Mattie! Let me clean the glass up," he offered just as Matthew stopped staring into the knife drawer and shoved it closed gently. He glanced over at Alfred, a severe look of sorrow on his face before it dissolved the second his eyes landed on Alfred. He smiled the best he could at the moment and fished out a broom and a dustpan for Alfred.

He set the dustpan on the floor and began sweeping the broken glass shards into it as the doorbell rang. Matthew left the kitchen to answer it as Alfred finished up his job, already knowing who the visitor was. He smiled when he heard Arthur's extremely concerned voice and Matthew's weak and raspy one, likely trying to assure Arthur that he was fine. He threw the glass in the garbage can and put the dustpan and broom away before heading for the front door.

Arthur tilted his head very slightly to the side when he spotted Alfred. "One minute you're English if perfect, the next, you act like you're in elementary school," he huffed, furrowing his large eyebrows and Alfred grinned sheepishly.

"I know right?" was all he could reply with.

With a sigh, Arthur returned to talking to Alfred's Canadian cousin. "I think we should confront Francis tomorrow, you've had enough happen today," he suggested and Matthew nodded his head in agreement, a solemn expression on his face.

"C'mon Mattie, cheer up a bit…" Alfred tried, patting his cousin on the shoulder. "I don't like seeing you upset…you haven't been this upset for quite a while…" he continued. He should be cautious with what he said from now on, Matthew didn't exactly favor talking about his childhood.

Matthew side-glanced at Alfred before sighing through his nostrils and nodding his head. "...Yeah. I know…"

Arthur placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder and shook his head. Alfred had to agree. He'd already said too much. Any more stress on Matthew today would kill him. And adding literally wouldn't be too far-fetched.

XXXX

**I was kind of hoping this would be a bit longer, but oh well. Yeah. Just got back from a Lent thing for church, had to leave in the middle of this so a few things happened that helped me type out this chapter. Got my feelings hurt by both my brother and parents. I try to be serious with them, but they only laugh at me…sometimes I really wonder if they know my boundaries and it hurts a lot when they go too far. This isn't the first time either.**

** Ugh…sometimes. Never mind. Anyways, please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends.**

**Fun Fact: One of the eight (known) American's that served in the RAF during the Battle of Britain was Minnesotan. His name was Arthur Dunahue and was nicknamed America.**


	37. Chapter 37

** M'kay, I have a really bad feeling that this chapter's going to be short so I shall sulk in that corner over there right now before I get this done and figure out it is in fact too short. –Brief sulking moment- Okay, I'm back. Let's get this party started~**

**XXXX**

He hadn't held a pencil or any form of writing utensil in a few years, so obviously he'd be a bit shaky. But this? This was horrible, his handwriting was much worse than Alfred's texting. He didn't know that his right hand had gone to hell and back, almost literally since it had been burned badly in that accident.

With a frustrated huff, Francis finished the final words to the quote he was writing and inspected his final product. It sucked. His right hand was already cramping up too. It was like two different people when it came to writing with both hands, his left was nice and flawless and his right, just before the crash, was kind of bold and large. Now why was he doing this? Well, he wouldn't admit it, but he was trying to get his mind off of Matthew, just for a moment…damn. He just thought about him.

Francis tightened his hold on the pencil in his hand and threw it at the wall, making a led mark just as Ludwig walked in. "What's going on now?" the German asked, cocking an eyebrow. Francis sighed and shook his head, resting it in a hand as his dorm mate approached the small desk they had bought and placed in the corner. Ludwig glanced down at the paper and furrowed his eyebrows. "Bad day? What's up?" he questioned Francis's handwriting.

"Right hand. Haven't written with it in a while," Francis sighed, raising his right hand before letting it fall back onto the desk. "Decided to reteach myself and apparently, it's deteriorated or something along those lines, mon dieu, it looks horrible…"

"I didn't know you were left handed," Ludwig pointed out and Francis sat up straighter.

"Well…I used to be right handed, but got it burnt pretty badly in a plane crash before college," he then raised his right arm along with his left. "You can even see a small color difference, though it's not hugely obvious. Had to teach myself how to write with my left hand and as you can see, I've stuck with it."

Ludwig's eyebrows rose when he now noticed the slight shade difference in between Francis's left and right arms. It was something he didn't notice before since he wasn't the most observant of those out there. "Oh, that's interesting, I never knew that about you," Ludwig shook his head before bending down to read the sloppy writing on the paper.

_ "Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak. Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."_

_-Winston Churchill_

_ "The US constitution doesn't guarantee happiness, only the pursuit of it. You have to catch up with it yourself."_

_-Benjamin Franklin_

"Benjamin Franklin and Winston Churchill?" Ludwig furrowed his eyebrows, a bit confused at his dorm mate's choice of quotes. Francis grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders in response. "Here, you're a's, o's and e's look alike along with your y's and k's and i's with j's," he pointed out before walking over to the thrown pencil to retrieve it.

Francis grinned at the German. "Thank you for notifying me O Wise One," he joked as Ludwig walked back over to the desk he was seated at.

"Here, I make my a's like this," Ludwig wrote an a on the paper, clearly different from the ones Francis was used to writing. "And I add these curls at the bottom of my y's so they don't look like k's."

"I didn't know k's could look like y's, but now that I really look at them, they do look alike," Francis pointed out as he watched Ludwig write on the paper in front of him. "It's nice to just talk with each other like this. We haven't done it lately," Francis grinned and stole the pencil from Ludwig so he could give the new writing tips a shot.

Ludwig straightened up and watched his French friend write. Sometimes he wished that short relationship he and Francis had when they first met their first college year had lasted. Francis had let him top (like hell he'd bottom) and…he's already thought too much.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Ludwig looked at the paper Francis was writing on. "Yeah, it has been a while since we just talked," he finally replied. "This is nice, those Alfred and Arthur guys have completely abducted you."

Francis snickered and glanced up at Ludwig. "Do you miss me?"

"Not at all."

"Aww, that's not nice of you," Francis huffed, though his grin never faltered. "But yeah. It was nice when we would help each other out with homework too, you were pretty good with science."

"You were pretty good with math being a mechanic and such," Ludwig nodded his head. The German looked over his shoulder when someone knocked on the door and excused himself to answer it. Francis sighed and ran a hand through his wavy hair, mulling over what he'd write next. He knew his handwriting wouldn't get good right away, but he couldn't help but feel like if he wrote all day, he'd get better.

Ludwig stepped back into the small bedroom. "Uh…it's Matthew and Arthur. Matthew wants to talk with you," Ludwig announced, sounding a bit uneasy and Francis remained silent, though it was a thoughtful silence. "Should I tell them to come back later?"

Francis shook his head in response. "No, no, let them come in, I'll talk with Matthew…" he muttered and Ludwig nodded before going back to the entrance to their dorm room. Francis sighed and rested his forehead on the desktop. "Oh Matthieu…what are you here for?"

There was a brief moment of solitude when Matthew shyly entered the room. "F-Francis…"

He remained still for a moment, not exactly knowing what to do before deciding that turning around to look at Matthew was a good start. He smiled the best he could at the moment as Matthew approached one of the beds and seated himself on it. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment before looking up at Francis hopefully. "I…" he trailed off and the strong look of hurt on Francis's face made Matthew scramble for words. "W-were not together! I-I mean, Marco and I aren't together!" he suddenly blurted.

Francis raised his eyebrows, though did look a tad skeptical. "P-please just listen okay? I-I mean, I'm just trying to make new friends and Al just kinda screwed me over or something and it made me really stressed. I-I just thought that Al had told you and you were going to question me and stuff like that since Alfred doesn't really like Marco in the first place because they have a weird history and stuff and I'm sorry for making you jump to conclusions and stuff and I just, I ju-ust want you to know that I love…you…" he turned bright red at the confession, feeling like it was when he first met Francis. Talk about a huge step backwards.

A long, painful silence followed and Matthew began to really wonder if Francis actually _was_ considering breaking up with him. He was about to speak up once more in a desperate attempt to save their relationship when Francis grinned at him. "Is that all?"

Dumbfounded, it took Matthew a moment to form an answer. "Y-yeah…that's basically it…" he muttered, fiddling with his sleeves. Francis's stiff posture relaxed and he let out a breathy, immensely relieved chuckle before standing up from the desk he was seated at. Matthew squeaked when Francis hugged him and spun them one eighty and dipped him backwards, locking their lips together in a romantic pose. His eyes slipped closed and he immediately responded to the show of affection before he was heaved back up and they were separated. He was slightly disappointed at the short duration of the kiss.

"Mon dieu, you're heavier than I thought!" Francis huffed, raking a hand through his wavy blond hair.

"I-I'm only one thirty five…" Matthew muttered, blushing heavily. "That really isn't much for someone as tall as I am…" he continued.

"Hm. It seems that I am ten less than you," Francis muttered, rubbing his chin.

"Well then, since I'm taller and heavier, maybe I should be the one doing that," Matthew boldly said and mirrored the move Francis had just made on him. The look of utter surprise would be in Matthew's mind for the rest of his life—Francis obviously wasn't expecting the brave move he had just made. It felt a bit strange to be in the position Francis would more likely take, but Matthew still enjoyed it nonetheless—maybe he should do it a bit more often.

He straightened them up and grinned brightly at Francis. "There. That actually wasn't so bad. You're not that heavy."

"I don't know if that's a comment or an insult," Francis muttered and Matthew felt extremely proud of the slight blush that was coloring the young Frenchman's cheeks. It was either a comment for his weight, or an insult to his physical strength.

"Al would get a kick out of this," Matthew grinned and Francis rolled his eyes.

"Please don't tell him anything…"

"I can't guarantee that," Matthew chuckled, shaking his head.

Francis then grinned at Matthew. "Well this is a side of you I haven't seen yet," he chuckled and Matthew fiddled with his index fingers, becoming a bit more self-conscious of his actions. It really was something extremely bold of him and he enjoyed it, it'd take quite a bit for him to admit to that though, for it'd be pretty embarrassing to say.

Francis leant forward to kiss Matthew again and Matthew was glad that he still was going to receive said shows of affection from Francis. "Je t'aime…"

"J-je vous aime trop François…"

III

Arthur nodded his head with a sigh. "Yep, that's what happened according to those two. I'm sure Francis doesn't know yet, so please don't tell him about it yet. Matthew isn't comfortable talking about it with even Alfred and I," he continued and a slightly shocked Ludwig nodded his head.

The German leant back in his seat with a sigh and racked a hand through his slicked back hair, staring up at the ceiling. "That's actually kind of a surprise. I mean, from what I've seen so far, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy to just…I don't know, I didn't really expect him to even consider something like that," he sighed, glancing back down at the British pilot who nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, it kind of shocked me too."

"Alright, I won't tell him," Ludwig nodded his head, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

III

"Alright Artie! France's back in the war! Hurry up Frenchie!" Alfred laughed boisterously as he jumped into the rear cockpit to Arthur's Bucker Jungmann.

"I'm coming! Mon dieu, some patients would be nice!" Francis barked back, jumping into the cockpit to his monoplane, Matthew following after him.

"Totally! China's coming too! C'mon India! You snooze you lose!" Yao laughed, starting up his plane, David desperately trying to keep up with the rest of his pilot friends. "Whoo! I'm taking sides with England! I totally want to be on England's side!"

"Well then I get France on my side!" David called and Alfred laughed loudly.

"We're completely fine with that! France is just full of a whole bunch of pussies!" Alfred shouted excitedly as Arthur started up the engine to his biplane. "English for the win!"

Alfred and Yao continued to yell at each other via their radios as they took off one by one, getting ready to start up another game of laser dogfighting. Alfred soon transitioned to laughing with Matthew who was extremely glad that he didn't need some epic speech to get Francis back.

**XXXX**

**J-je vous aime trop Fran****çois – I love you too Francis (1)**

**(1) François – I'm sure François is Francis in French…**

** Daaw, Francis is so forgiving ain't he? Boom, I used the apparently not-word ain't, suck it losers (lol, quoting Prussia)! Yup, this is shorter than I hoped it'd be, so that sulking in the first author's note was absolutely necessary. Baaw, I don't have much else to say, so please review, and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: During the London Blitz, people (mostly soccer players) would stand atop buildings such as the Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, etc. When gyroscopic bombs would land atop said monuments (don't know if that's the proper word, but okay), they'd kick them off so they'd blow up somewhere else. That's why so many of them are still here today without excessive damage.**


	38. Chapter 38

** Oh, man, I could go to sleep right now…-w- But I want to update tonight, so yeah. Enjoy**~

XXXX

May had finally arrived and the snow finally melted. It was absolutely beautiful out and it was the perfect temperature out, not too hot, nor too cold. At the current moment, Alfred, Arthur, Matthew, Francis, Yao and David were in the hangar, three out of the six of them dead asleep in the cockpits to their planes and one up flying his at the moment, that one being Arthur. Matthew was currently tinkering with something at the table off by the crates, Alfred sitting next to him and muttering happily to himself about the nice weather.

"Man…it's so nice out…I can understand why they're taking naps," Alfred grinned, lying on his back atop the crates. Matthew hummed in response as he tossed the screwdriver aside, though it didn't fall off of the table he was working at. "Oh, hey Mattie, did you tell Francis about what…yeah?" he then asked, rolling onto his stomach and staring at his cousin. Matthew sighed and stopped what he was doing, setting the new laser down.

"I…no. Am still building up the courage to do so," Matthew said, picking up the laser once more. "I want to. But I'm too scared to."

"But he'll know how much he means to you," Alfred reassured, hanging his arms over the edge of the row of crates. "I mean, yeah, it's kinda scary and stuff, but I'm sure it'll have a positive outcome," he continued and Matthew looked up at Alfred before returning to his work once more. "I can help if you want me to."

"No thank you," Matthew sighed, hand patting to his right, searching for the screwdriver without having to look up. "I think I'll be able to by tomorrow."

"You liar," Alfred huffed, pouting down at Matthew. "You can't assume you can do something on a specific date."

"Shut up Al," Matthew grinned up at Alfred who returned the gesture before rolling back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. There was a brief moment of silence before Alfred decided to speak up once more, rolling onto his stomach again.

"Hey, what're you working on by the way?" he asked. "It looks like those receivers and lasers you just finished about a week ago."

"They are. I'm making more lasers and more receivers so they can have one on each wing as well to make it a bit more realistic, though we'd have to tear the planes up a bit. And rewire the computers and ugh…just thinking about it is kind of a pain, but I think we'll be able to do this without a hitch," Matthew explained and Alfred nodded his head.

The sound of a plane landing became audible in the distance and Alfred sat up with a grin, waiting for Arthur's Bucker Jungmann to drive into the hangar. There was a brief moment before the plane pulled in and Alfred slid off of the edge of the crate he was seated atop, bounding over to the plane as the engine was killed. "Hi Artie~!"

"Hello Alfred," Arthur greeted, getting out of the biplane and being swept up into a hug, being spun once around before being set back down on the floor. "Good to see you," he continued, kissing Alfred quickly on the lips before pulling his goggles onto his forehead. "Matthew, what're you doing?"

"Making more lasers and receivers to make our mock dogfights more realistic," Matthew replied and Arthur nodded his head. "Oh, and there'll be a separate air show for aerobatics with biplanes. We'll be performing our mock dogfights to the public, a few media crews are interested."

"Oh really?" Alfred piped excitedly. "Dude! That's amazing! Though I do kinda wish we could keep it as our own kinda thing…" Alfred sighed.

"Yeah, but just think about it," Matthew started, smiling over at the two. "Competitions and events could be held and Arthur, Francis, David and Yao can compete against other pilots," he continued and Alfred again, grinned at the idea.

"That sounds cool," Arthur nodded his head before looking over to the three pilots still asleep in the cockpits to their planes. "When did they fall asleep?" he asked, jabbing a thumb in their direction.

"A bit after you took off," Matthew answered, glancing over at the three. "It's a great day for a cat nap."

"Agreed," Alfred grinned. "Hey guys~! We totally have just over three weeks before school's over!" he then announced, tugging Arthur into a one armed hug. "Doesn't that sound great? I can't wait for summer! We can all do just random stuff other than the air show!"

"Ugh…I could disagree with you. I have to get ready to move to England," Arthur huffed and Alfred immediately deflated, muttering under his breath about not wanting to talk about that. Arthur rolled his eyes and pat Alfred on the shoulder before pulling out of the one armed embrace.

Alfred then characteristically jumped back to being cheerful again. "Oh! Artie, wanna go get Iggy with me? I wanted to start socializing him and he needs to know what a plane is if I'm going to be with a pilot!" he chimed and Arthur grumbled. At the moment, he was having memories of the horror Iggy was when he and Francis had the puppy forced into their care. Obviously it wasn't pretty, Francis got into an enormous amount trouble with his parents since they didn't know he had to take care of a puppy.

"Did a pack of dogs come through our house?" his father had demanded and Arthur couldn't help but snicker at that despite his situation.

"Hey, what's up? You gonna come with me?" Alfred asked, waving a hand in front of Arthur's face. Snapping out of his reverie, Arthur nodded his head in agreement. He obviously couldn't decline, because if he did, he'd either get the puppy face, or Alfred would do his 'too-bad!' thing and then drag him away to his truck. "Awesome! 'Kay Mattie, we'll be back in a while with Iggy~!"

"M'kay, I'll say hi to him once you guys return," Matthew nodded his head and Alfred and Arthur walked out of the hanger, Arthur looking a bit unenthusiastic about the small journey he was going to take to Alfred's house.

There was a slightly distant sounding of barking and growling before Francis noticed that it probably was supposed to be louder. Grunting in irritation, he opened his eyes and glanced down at the ground, spotting a white dog barking at the wheels to his monoplane. Francis blinked once, then twice before noticing that it was Iggy. "Gyah!" he jumped up and fell back and out of the machine, luckily, not landing on his back. "It got bigger!"

"Well _duh _he got bigger!" Alfred laughed. "It's been almost two months since you last saw Iggy and he's not an it!" he continued, peeking off to the side so he could see Francis as Iggy bound over to the Frenchman, attempting to lick his face while Francis tried to shove the dog off of him. "Ha, ha! Iggy, stop it, leave Bonerfoy alone, apparently he doesn't like you," Alfred laughed and Iggy jumped off and wiggled over to Alfred before returning to barking at the Pietenpol's landing gear.

"Mon Dieu, that little devil's such a nightmare…" Francis muttered. Iggy approached the wheel he was barking at, sniffed it, and then bound over to hide behind Alfred's legs, watching the wheels intently whilst barking some more. "And loud…"

Arthur was standing next to Alfred when Iggy grabbed ahold of the legs to his pants and started pulling, growling up at the Briton. "No dog! Goodness, stop it!" Arthur barked, pulling his leg away from Iggy only to have the puppy pounce on him.

"You're going to have to run~"

"I'm _not _running from that demon," Arthur seethed as he stepped away from Iggy. The dog soon returned to barking at the plane's landing gear.

"Ha, ha, you're plane's a real wonder to Iggy Bonerfoy," Alfred grinned, watching as Iggy circled the plane and tried to pounce on the tail of the plane.

Matthew walked over to Iggy and hugged the puppy. "Hi Iggy, how're you doing?" he asked, obviously not expecting a verbal answer. Iggy happily licked at his face and the Canadian let the puppy do so, seating himself completely on the concrete floor and pulling the growing animal into his lap. "He's such a good dog."

"Totally! He's an amazing foot warmer too!" Alfred piped and Arthur hummed, having already figured that out. "Especially in the winter!"

"Too bad winter's already passed," Arthur said and Alfred accused him of being a killjoy.

"Aiya! Look at the puppy~!" Yao cooed, having been awoken by the commotion Iggy was creating. The Chinese pilot jumped out of the cockpit of his plane and jogged over to the white American-Canadian shepherd. Matthew let Iggy jump out of his lap and greet Yao who picked him up immediately. "So cute! Though I do like cats better, but still!" he continued, letting Iggy lick his nose. "It makes me want one!"

"I know right?" Alfred grinned, reaching over to pet Iggy on the head, in between his large ears.

"What's his name?" Yao asked, smiling broadly at the puppy. "Look at the little eyebrow whiskers or whatever they call 'em~!"

"Iggy's his name," Alfred answered with a grin and Yao immediately went to saying Iggy's name, getting the puppy to tilt his head to the side in that infamous look of juvenile curiosity.

"Aww, puppies are so cute when they tilt their heads like this~!" Yao continued, hugging Iggy close to his chest. "I wish kitties did that!" he then let Iggy down who bounded over to Francis's plane and immediately proceeded with chewing on the rear rudder.

"Hey! Stop it!" Francis wailed, shooing Iggy away. The puppy simply circles the plane briefly, watching Francis intently before deciding that chewing on the large object would get the blond Frenchman to chase him. He pounced forward once more and started chewing on one of the wheels he'd been barking at earlier. "Stop it dog!"

Iggy barked, and started a game, in his view, of chase. Arthur grinned. "Déjà vu."

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked and Arthur shook his head, the grin still stretching at his lips.

"Oh just…something rather similar to this happened at the park when we had to take care of your little devil. Just that…the collar slipped off and we were getting strange looks," Arthur answered and Alfred grinned himself.

"I thought I told you in the manual not to let the collar slip off," he laughed lightly and Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

"I couldn't exactly chase after him since my legs were still recovering," he remarked and returned to watching Francis chase Iggy. "So Francis had to chase after him. It was kind of funny giving how Iggy had to bounce pretty high to get through the snow even though it was only three inches deep."

"Aw, I wish I was there, that's a funny mental image," Alfred snickered this time. Iggy hid behind Alfred's legs, barking at Francis who was wailing in French at him. If it were possible, Iggy looked highly amused. "So guys! Are we gonna do anything today?"

They all fell silent before Matthew spoke up. "Well Francis and I don't really have anything planned…"

"I'm open all day," Yao waved a hand in the air.

"Same," David announced from the cockpit of his Starduster, waving a hand over his head lazily before letting it fall back onto his abdomen.

"I don't have anything to do either today," Arthur shrugged his shoulders and Alfred huffed.

"Oh come on guys! You're so boring!" he whined and Iggy barked. "See? Even my dog thinks you're all boring!" he continued, joking a bit, but still speaking what he had on his mind. "Come on, we gotta come up with something to do!"

There was a brief silence before Matthew broke it once more. "I'm pulling blanks."

"It's such a nice day out guys! How can you _not_ want to do anything the first day it's super nice out?"

"Well, I thought—"

"Shut up Bonerfoy, I don't want to hear your perverted suggestions—anyone else?" Alfred asked, grinning at his cousin, boyfriend and friends. "Anyone?"

"Uh…no…"

"Ugh, such boring friends ey Iggy?"

III

They ended up going out to eat around 50th and France at a dog friendly restaurant. Mathew and Arthur ended up having to witness the disgusting sight of Alfred and Yao engaging in an eating contest, the two utterly embarrassed. While that was going on, Francis and David were ignoring the disgusting sight, David laughing about something Francis had said.

"Oally! Ameica fo uh win!" Alfred cheered, mouth still full of food. Yao huffed and swallowed, having lost the race. Arthur and Matthew looked away from the sigh in disgust, Arthur sticking out his tongue and scrunching his nose up rather comically.

Matthew then began to wonder how he'd tell Francis about his attempt of suicide. He didn't know if he'd be able to tell him tomorrow like he'd assumed back at the hangar. It was a scary thought, but Matthew didn't quite know what was scaring him in the first place. Was it Francis's reaction? Likely.

Noticing his cousin's unease, Alfred swallowed, downed his soda and belched before worrying over his relative. "Hey, what's up Mattie?" he asked, just quiet enough to keep the others from hearing their conversation.

"Hm? Oh, it's…it's nothing," he shook his head, smiling in hopes of reassuring Alfred that he was fine. "Just thinking."

XXXX

** Bleh, nothing really happened, but this is like one of those breaks. Something. Dunno. Oh, this was too short…again. ;A; My chapters are just getting shorter and shorter. Hopefully the next will be longer. :3 Lol, I just learned that my cousin's going to be in the air show I'm using for this story (yes, it's real). I was like D8 le gasp! So yeah, nothing left to really say. Please review, love to hear what you like to say and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: The Battle of Britain is a bit overestimated. **


	39. Chapter 39

** Hm…I can't remember if I told you guys that I don't update on weekends unless I have an outline written ahead of time since I find it hard to write one over the weekend. I usually write them during school. :P**

**XXXX**

_"And—who are you?"_

_ "Free my brother…"_

_ "What?"_

_ "Let him go you bastard!"_

_ "Young sire, please leave, we are—"_

_ BANG!_

III

One: The déjà vu he was feeling was currently killing Alfred.

Two: He was _bored._

Three...well…there was not three. But his head was hurting from the déjà vu. The only difference was that it was history class from what this felt like. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it. Sighing and turning his head so that he was resting the other cheek on the desk, Alfred muttered something under his breath before yawning. Sometimes history class was amazingly fun, other times it was…meh.

He and Matthew shared the same history class ever since the new semester started a few months ago and normally, Alfred would try to communicate with his cousin, but alas, Matthew would ignore him. Sometimes they'd had a very minimal back and forth conversation before Matthew shushed Alfred to return to the day's lesson. They were currently covering the Austrian succession, and it was boring the hell out of the American. "Oh God Mattie, I think I'm dying…"

"No you're not," Matthew whispered. "Just wait it out," he continued. Even though on the outside he looked completely apathetic, on the inside, Matthew was just as bad as Alfred. He just hid it better.

"But I don't wanna…" Alfred muttered, glancing up at Matthew who's gaze was currently stuck to the pull down screen in front of them. "…Mattieee, how can you handle this? Teach me!"

"Shh!" the student behind Alfred shushed and Alfred huffed at them. He glanced back at Matthew who was now taking notes. Alfred then looked up at the ceiling the best he could without lifting his head from his desk. He decided that he'd listen to his surroundings. A few pencils scraping against paper, someone yawning, someone chewing gum. Gum wasn't allowed. Another person yawning, two friends complaining together, someone farted. Gross.

Just as Alfred was about to fall asleep, another teacher cracked the door open. "Hello, do you have some time?"

Their teacher stopped, looking curiously at the concerned expression the other teacher nodded his head. Alfred decided that he'd stay awake just long enough to figure out what these guys were worrying over. The teacher's lounge probably ran out of coffee or something. Caramel candies maybe.

"Thank you, sorry for the inconvenience, but I've received word of something going on at the U of M (1) and my room's television's out," he sighed, shaking his head. Alfred recognized the teacher and he was worried mainly because his son attended said University. He perked up a bit further. Some students behind them (he and Matthew were in the front row) began murmuring amongst each other and Alfred decided now would be a nice time to sit up.

The teacher that had just walked in walked over to the television in the corner over the teacher's desk and turned it on. There was a bit of channel changing before they stopped on FOX News.

"_We don't have much information at the moment, but we definitely know that there's a shoot-out in the history building on the University of Minnesota's property. We have no victims or suspects at the moment, but hopefully we will any minute."_

III

He had managed to wrestle the gun from his brother, now staring at the silver haired teen. "Calm down Gilbert, I'm right here," Ludwig tried to be as calm as possible. Gilbert obviously was high and having one of his episodes of mental instability, for he'd never shoot anyone sober.

Gilbert blinked multiple times, more than necessary before answering, "No…no, they'll take me back. They'll lock me up for the rest of my life now. Bruder, I don't want to go. Don't make me go!"

"Gilbert!"

"I'm _not _going back!" Gilbert burst, stomping a foot and Ludwig took a subconscious step back. After a bit of watching his sibling frantically look around, Ludwig set down the gun Gilbert had brought with him on the ground. He then straightened back up, staring at the war-like scene around him.

"You won't go back Gilbert," that was obviously a lie.

"L-look at all of the blood, heh, I'm going back. They're going to make me. I'm going back, but I don't want to so I'll blast their fucking brains out!" Gilbert cackled, though he wasn't smiling. "That one's still alive, can I kill him bruder? He's going to tell on me and then I'll be put back there…"

Ludwig looked over to a blond boy with glasses…well, he was supposed to have glasses, but they were now lost. He was soaked in blood and most of it was concentrated in his chest, he might die if officials didn't get here quick.

"_Get on the ground!"_ their time couldn't have been any better. Ludwig immediately rested himself on the ground unlike Gilbert who immediately bolted, only to be caught. Ludwig closed his eyes and wondered when Gilbert had gone to hell. One thing he knew was that he wasn't coming back.

III

_"The teacher, which the students had dubbed 'Rome' for his immense knowledge on said empire, is one of the three, as we know of, dead. We have an uncounted number of injured. Officers have just gotten a hold of two suspects."_

Alfred nearly cringed when he saw Ludwig's picture appear on the screen, him being one of the suspects. Even though he really didn't know the guy, he really hoped that Ludwig wasn't going to be accused. "_Ludwig Beilschmidt is one of them, but the second, Gilbert Beilschmidt, his brother, is more likely for his large criminal record, history of drug use and mental instability."_

"Gilbert?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows as he turned his attention to Matthew. "Didn't he drop out just two months ago?"

"Yeah…he was failing terribly and decided to drop out…he's been held back a few grades, so that's why he's older than Ludwig, but still in high school," Matthew explained.

"He was held back? I didn't know Ludwig was the _younger _brother. Gosh, that's kind of strange, you'd expect Ludwig to be the older sibling since he's more uh…mature," Alfred mulled and Matthew nodded his head before shushing his cousin so he could watch the news report. Alfred immediately flipped his phone out, knowing exactly who to text.

**[American Idiot]**

**holy hel iggy! now i no y i was having bad deja vu! wait do u even no wats hapening? **

He waited anxiously for Arthur's reply. It took a while and Alfred was about to return his full attention and anticipation to the news report when his cellular began vibrating on the desk. He scrambled to pick it up, glancing up at his teachers in hopes that they hadn't heard it. Luckily for him, they were too occupied with the program.

**[Artie]**

**Yes, I am currently aware. My teacher was a very good friend of Rome.**

**[American Idiot]**

**Germania? isnt he like, in somtin w/ rome?**

**[Artie]**

**Hence the 'very good friend'. I don't want to sound like I'm invading.**

Alfred looked up at the television screen when they began naming victims. The first was a boy with blond hair, blue or green eyes and glasses. "_Our first report is of Eduard Von Bock, who is said to have a bullet wound in his chest and medics aren't sure yet, if he's going to make the night or not."_

"Ugh…poor guy…" Alfred muttered, rubbing his forehead. He recognized Estonia as someone who would hang around his friend Toris every now and then along with a middle schooler that he didn't know the name to. "I hope Toris's okay…"

"_The second report is of a Korean transfer student, Im Yong Soo. So far, only a wound in his hip."_

Alfred recognized the Korean transfer student as well. He'd seen him at a café every now and then that he'd go to when he needed some down time from the rest of the gang. Maybe he should say hello to him sometime once the Korean was out of the hospital. He was always claiming things left and right loudly or talking on his phone loudly.

A few more names were listed and Alfred didn't recognize anyone else so far. There were a few such as Gupta Muhammad something, he didn't catch the last and a Sadiq Annan, but the other names he'd decided to ignore. He was shocked at how many the shooter had managed to actually hit, normally, shoot outs' were just two to five people, but either Gilbert of Ludwig (he was positive it was Gilbert) had really managed to get a lot of people. They probably had to bring multiple bullet magazines. So far, it was at seven hit, three dead.

"_Another is Francis Bonnefoy and rumor has it, he's a good friend of Gilbert Beilschmidt, so he will be seen in court likely once his wound has healed. At the current moment, it's just in the abdomen."_

The reporter continued with listing three more victims shot before it was immediately cut to footage of a camera on the scene. Alfred chanced a look at his cousin who had his mouth covered with a hand, gaping likely both the blood and the fact that his boyfriend had just gotten shot, much like himself late last year.

Looking back at the screen, the boy that was likely Eduard was being wheeled into an ambulance on a stretcher, eyes wide open as he stared at the nothingness in front of him. He was obviously delusional and all of the blood soaking through his shirt was making Matthew disgusted from the disgusted sound coming from the Canadian seated next to him. A few of the girls and the few squeamish guys behind them were also making disgusted sounds.

The next boy that was wheeled by was the Korean transfer student, Alfred would recognize him anywhere. According to people, he was a genius since he skipped his junior and senior years of high school and moving immediately to America for college. Alfred was kind of surprised that he wasn't at Harvard University, but then again, there are some better than Im Yong Soo.

The sirens were drowning out the Korean boys shouts, but he was currently trying to sit up, fighting against the hands pushing him back down into the stretcher. He obviously didn't want to lay down, just to get up and do what he wanted to do. 

The camera was then panned over to the right and Ludwig along with his brother Gilbert were currently handcuffed as they were being led to a large group of cop cars parked on the outside of the building. They were currently being questioned, the cops urging past the reporters as Ludwig ignored them and Gilbert barked into the outstretched microphones.

It was a mix of "fuck you all!" "I'm not going back!" "I did it because I was freeing my bruder!" and a whole bunch of humorless cackling. It was starting to scare Alfred for some reason.

The camera panned back to those being whisked away to the hospital. One girl was currently in shock, reaching a hand out to one of the medics. Then Francis was wheeled by, one arms slung over his eyes as if he were hiding his face from the cameras. That obviously wasn't the case, but he was muttering something.

The noise on the television continued before it was abruptly turned off. Alfred blinked, having to adjust to losing the sudden wail of the sirens and yelling of people. The teacher that had just walked in looked solemn before thanking their history teacher and walking out briskly. Alfred, having paid most attention to people he knew, assumed that the teacher's son was likely one of the victims with the reaction he just saw.

There was a long silence, nobody daring to speak before their teacher set the whiteboard marker on the teacher's desk below the television that had just been on. "…Okay. So this is what Prussia did."

III

"Mm hm. Yeah, I know. Yuck, you can still see the blood on the window right there," Alfred grunted, adjusting the phone before slowing his truck down. The area was currently taped off, but he and Matthew, who was following not too far behind, were able to get just close enough to see the building. "Yeah. Don't worry Mattie. Mattie, c'mon, you couldn't do anything, now don't get into a car crash…Shut up, I'm fully aware of the fact that we're going six miles an hour," Alfred grunted, a bit embarrassed as he glanced at the speedometer just over his steering wheel. Furrowing his eyebrows, he tapped at it—it was currently broken.

He glanced back up at the building, giving the blood spattered on the window another glance before sticking his tongue out in disgust. It was definitely worse on the inside and Alfred didn't want to imagine the murder scene in his head. His imagination could concoct some pretty eerie things. Maybe it was from all of the horror movies he watched…and that just gave him an idea. He hadn't had a horror movie marathon in a while, maybe he should have one with Arthur once all of this has calmed down.

"C'mon Mattie, let's go to the hospital," Alfred sighed, taking the detour that had been set up. "M'kay. Yeah, I'll see you there. Bye," he said and closed the phone swiftly. He sighed and turned a corner, reaching forward to tap at the speedometer in hopes of getting it to start up again. "Damn thing…"

III

"How many more times will we have to be here?" Alfred asked, currently leaning back in his seat in the waiting room to the hospital. Matthew was seated next to him and didn't offer a reply. "Ugh, such a bother," he sighed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Alfred looked up when someone sat down next to him, grinning when he recognized them as Arthur. "How many more times will we have to be here?" Arthur deadpanned, looking extremely unimpressed. "God, we're just…ugh. This ridiculous."

"I don't know, hopefully we don't have to be here anymore in the future, I don't know what else life can throw at us," Alfred muttered, shaking his head. "If you weren't a pilot, you wouldn't have crashed and if Matthew and Francis had communicated with each other properly, Matthew wouldn't have had to come here for a check-up kind of thing…" Alfred continued, glancing at Arthur who was sending him a slightly murderous look. "Eheh, b-but you are a pilot and—and…!"

"Just leave it," Arthur grunted, looking away from Alfred who sighed in relief before pulling the Briton closer to him.

"God, I hope we don't have to come here much more…"

"In addition to your…alternative history, if you would've just kept your cool, you wouldn't have had to come here for getting your arse handed to you by Ivan."

"Shut up," Alfred grunted and Arthur smiled up at Alfred.

"Ah! Amigos, how many more times will you be here?" Antonio asked as he strolled through the automatic doors, a slightly distraught look on his face. "Seriously, you're like a bad omen!" he continued, stopping next to Arthur.

"I'm not a bad omen…" Alfred huffed, crossing his arms childishly as Antonio sat down next to Arthur.

"I'll be sitting down next to you—but don't cast a bad luck spell on me. I want to live a long, healthy life," Antonio said as he got comfortable in the seat next to Arthur. He then pat the Brit on the shoulder. "Estás bien?" he asked, looking concerned.

"I…we've just been here too much is all," Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It almost feels like a second home…"

"A pretty shitty one," Alfred added and Antonio grinned. But when nobody grinned with him, he decided to drop it. "So, where's Lovino?" Alfred then asked. "He's normally following you like a lost puppy."

"Hah, that's a funny thing to compare my dear Lovi to. Well, he didn't want to come this time. He said he didn't want to be around the 'bastards that attract bad things'," Antonio answered and Alfred returned to muttering about not being a bad omen. There was a brief silence before Antonio frowned, a slightly empty look in his eyes. "…Gilbert's the official criminal. They checked surveillance and did fingerprints."

"Ugh, I can't imagine watching that…" Matthew muttered lowly, rubbing his forehead. He was still a bit shocked from the sudden shoot out even if he wasn't physically present. He didn't know what to think at the moment. He was dead worried about Francis, that's all he was sure about.

"I knew it was Gilbert…Ludwig's too awesome to kill people…" Alfred muttered and Antonio adjusted himself so that he was facing the three a bit better.

"I knew he'd snap sooner or later…" Antonio then sighed, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Wish we would've helped him back when we all actually had a connection."

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked curiously.

"Francis and I were super great friends with Gilbert once upon a time," the Spaniard announced, looking up at the three. "But look at the guy now…he has an _enormous _criminal record, drinks, smokes, does a whole bunch of drugs and just recently became mentally unstable…" Antonio muttered. He looked a bit heartbroken as he spoke about his former friend. "I really wish we would've helped…"

"I would normally say that it still isn't too late, but from what I'm hearing, he's too far gone," Arthur answered. "I don't know what to say…and he's obviously going to land himself in jail."

"But don't they do something specific to mentally unstable people? Aren't they like, put in some sort of solitary confinement or something?" Antonio worried, rubbing at one of his eyes. Even though he looked like he was on the verge of crying, his voice was stable and didn't show any sign of faltering.

"…I don't know what they do to mentally unstable people Antonio," the British pilot sighed. "I've never looked into it."

A silence followed and Alfred felt that the day would have more of those to come. He was starting to feel bad for Gilbert even though earlier he'd just looked down on the guy as a criminal who drank and smoked. He never knew about the drugs (although he'd suspected it) and the mental instability. Especially the mental instability. The guy was kind of crazy, but he'd acted like the cliché annoying guy that bothered everyone perfectly. He'd never acted strange whenever Alfred saw him. And rumors would've spread about his mental instability and drug use, so Alfred didn't know how all of this worked. Gilbert must've been pretty good at keeping things a secret.

"How many more hours before we're allowed to visit?" Alfred then asked in a sigh. He didn't want to talk about Gilbert anymore, it made him feel hopeless for some reason.

Arthur checked his phone before flipping it shut. "Two more hours. They're expected to be done on him in about half an hour and he needs an hour and a half to just rest on his own," he announced and Alfred nodded.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go to McDonald's and just pick up some stuff to chow on while I wait, anyone wanna come with me?" Alfred then offered, standing up. Antonio shook his head, Arthur made a disgusted expression and Matthew declined the offer. Huffing he accused them of being killjoys before walking off with a wave of his hand, telling them he'd be back in a while.

About an hour and a half passed before Alfred returned, saying that he had eaten McDonald's, then went to an ice cream joint along with a GameStop to pick up a new horror game he wanted to play with Kiku some time. He had then gone home to drop the stuff off before returning to find that only an hour and a half remained of the expected time they were to wait.

Antonio was currently taking a nap while Arthur was stretched out across a few chairs, a thin blanket he'd likely fetched over himself, ear buds fitted inside of his ears. Alfred couldn't hear the music and figured that it wasn't something Arthur did—blast his music. Matthew was also hogging a few chairs, an arm draped over his eyes, the other resting on his abdomen.

"Wow, told you guys it'd be boring," Alfred huffed as he seated himself in the row of chairs across from his three friends. It actually was kind of a humorous sight, the three of them sharing about seven chairs, Matthew's legs overlapping Arthur's while Arthur's head was resting on Antonio's feet. The Briton had likely thrown a fit about having to sleep on the Spaniard's feet and Alfred found himself wishing that he was there to witness it.

Eventually, a nurse approached them and announced that they were allowed to visit. Antonio and Arthur were still asleep during it, so Alfred had suggested that just Matthew go in. It was a better idea anyways, Matthew needed to see Francis. The Canadian had agreed with his cousin and was let into the hospital room.

As he entered, he smiled softly at Francis who was staring at the ceiling, hands folded in his lap. "H-hey Francis…" he greeted. He didn't know why, but he felt nervous. When Francis look up at him, it went away and his smile became a bit larger. He stepped forward, intent on hugging his boyfriend.

"I almost kick you off of the property and you _still _come?"

"What?"

Antonio and Arthur had woken up to hear the diagnosis with Alfred. From what they were hearing, Francis would have a mental set back of eight and a half months from the answers Francis was giving them and it was to last just a few days before he'd click back into place. Become 'up to date' according to Alfred. They were assuming it was just a trauma thing.

"Ugh, mental set backs are such a pain," Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"But you didn't have one," Alfred pointed out. "It was amnesia."

"I know, but this is sort of similar," Arthur looked at Alfred who shrugged his shoulders. He was about to say something when Matthew came stomping out, looking angry and heartbroken.

"Whoa, whoa, where are you going?" Alfred asked, jumping up so he could stop Matthew once the Canadian had passed them.

"I'm going home," he muttered. "He thought I was you!" Matthew continued in a shout.

Alfred held up his hands in a harmless gesture. "Slow down Mattie, you didn't get the diagnosis. He has a mental set back of eight and a half months, so he doesn't know who you are because well…I first approached them in I think mid-October which is when we all met and stuff," Alfred explained. Matthew loosened up visibly, but the heartbrokenness still showed. "Just go try again now that you know," Alfred then urged, turning his cousin around physically and leading him back in the direction of the room he had stormed out of.

"Oh…uh, probably should've stayed a bit then…" Matthew muttered and Alfred chuckled an agreement before letting go of Matthew's shoulders. He then sighed and his shoulder's drooped. "Well that was a blast from the past…"

"What do you mean? And why did Matthew seem so bothered?" Arthur asked.

"Well…people used to always mistake Mattie for me back when we were younger and up until he grew his hair out, he was basically well…I don't know how to explain it," Alfred shook his head in a slight haste. "To top it off, I don't really like talking about it was much as he does for some reason. It just bothers me."

"The ignorance of people?"

"…Yeah, I guess that's what."

XXXX

**(1) U of M – The abbreviation we Minnesotans use for the University of Minnesota.**

** Lol, I just looked up the top Universities of the world and I was like: "Damn! America and England are hogging the charts!" So yeah. I really don't have much to say after this except for my usual review and peace out thing so yeah. Please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**

**Fun Fact: Napoleon Bonaparte constructed his battle plans in a sandbox (I got a real kick out of that one XD).**


	40. Chapter 40

** Meh…fortieth chapter and am still going (slightly) strong. That's good. **

XXXX

Alfred could see that visiting Francis was a hard thing for Matthew mainly because Francis talked to him very rarely whenever he was there and continued to either mistake him for Alfred or forget his name. The American had told Matthew that he kept getting forgotten because he wasn't making much of an impression if he just sat there on the chair and sulked in the corner.

He also noticed that Matthew was distancing himself from the Frenchman, his excuses for not going with him whenever he offered being that he 'needed some alone time' even though he's had plenty lately and 'that he needs to keep in touch with Marco', which was slightly better than the first. In the span of four days, Alfred, Arthur and Antonio had visited Francis six times (Antonio on his own time) and Matthew three.

Despite the fact that Matthew had told Alfred that he was completely fine, Alfred knew that it hurt Matthew to know that if he visited, he'd be forgotten/mistaken along with treated like a shadow since he found no words to speak whenever he was there. Yeah, it would hurt Alfred too if Arthur acted like they didn't have any sort of connection and vice versa, but Matthew really needed to speak up. Wasn't he the smart one? Lately, Alfred's been starting to doubt it.

"So Mattie, you wanna come visit him today? He should be remembering things about today or tomorrow and he's going to be discharged later today," Alfred offered, peeking into the kitchen where Matthew was currently sulking over his phone, probably not finding the kind of attention he wanted from Marco via texting. "You need to visit him Mattie."

"Yeah, I'm coming," he sighed, flipping the phone shut swiftly before standing up with a heavy exhale. Alfred grinned at his cousin and led him to his run-down truck, and being secretly wealthy to most of the world, Alfred pondered over getting something snazzy. Maybe something expensive just to freak out his mom _and_ Arthur.

The two seated themselves in the front seats to the car and Alfred proceeded with struggling to get the thing to start up. He ended having to go out and kick it to get the engine going and as he seated himself back into the driver's seat, he muttered about needing to get a new car. Matthew remained silent through the whole thing.

They reached the hospital just before Alfred's truck ran out of gas. Stepping out, Alfred pat the thing on the hood, telling it to 'hang in there girl' before urging Matthew into the medical building in front of them. When they entered, the two immediately went to check in the nurse at the desk and were led to Francis's room.

They were then greeted with the usual, "Bonjour Alfred~! Who is this you have with you?" The Frenchman looked awfully bright about everything at the moment as Matthew simply darkened further. Alfred noted the contrast and sighed, itching at the back of his head.

"Uh…I already told you this. He's Matthew, my cousin?" he sighed, patting Matthew's shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up in the slightest. Francis blinked and furrowed his eyebrows before grinning at Alfred's slight look alike.

"Ah! I am sorry about that. He hasn't visited much, so it must've slipped my mind," he waved a hand in the air in a dismissive manor and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"So, has Antonio visited recently?" the American decided to change the subject before they said something that made Matthew storm out like last time. "I heard he's been here quite a bit like us," he continued and Francis nodded his head.

"He was just here an hour ago," he grinned. "He does talk quite a bit though, last time I checked, he dedicated so much of his time to his new lover Lovino and has no time for anyone else," Francis continued and Alfred grinned—Lovino wasn't exactly a 'new lover' now since it's been almost nine months. "He doesn't really talk much either, but it's like some sort of overnight change thing."

"Yeah…he's quite the talker."

III

Ever since Francis had been sent back to his dorm room, Ludwig was assigned the task of keeping track of his memory problems. It was currently the fifth day since Gilbert snapped and he'd noticed that Francis seemed 'up to date' once more and even a bit depressed. From what Ludwig was observing.

At the current moment, he was watching the Frenchman sit cross legged on his bed, staring down at a small jewelry box. The German was sitting at the desk Francis had been working at a few days ago, watching mostly out of curiosity since Alfred had told him he was off the hook once Francis was back to normal.

The French college student sighed and closed the box before tossing it over his shoulder, Ludwig catching it. He opened the box and observed what was inside of it: a necklace, thin silver chain with a maple leaf pendant dangling on it. "Are you okay?"

"Non mon ami…I don't even know what half of this stuff is…" he muttered almost tiredly as he picked up a piece of paper with poor handwriting all over it. He then crumpled it up and threw it over his shoulder, the ball of paper landing at Ludwig's feet.

"Hey cheer up, you're king of scaring me," Ludwig advised a bit awkwardly as he looked down at the paper after closing the small box holding the necklace. He watched Francis search through a box a bit more before pulling out a guitar pick that looked like a dog had chewed it up. He then threw that over his shoulder as well and Ludwig caught it expertly with one hand. "You're pretty consistent with where you throw things…"

"Why do I even have that?" Francis muttered as he continued with his searching.

"Well you used to play guitar," Ludwig pointed out, voice matter of fact.

"I know that and why'd I keep it? It's chewed up and I don't even have a guitar anymore, so why keep it?" Francis muttered as he pulled out a music book for a saxophone.

"You said it was your favorite one and that Alfred's dog chewed it up," Ludwig pointed out once more and Francis hummed before setting the music book behind him, telling Ludwig to throw it away. The Frenchman then picked up a photo of his now dead teacher 'Rome' before sighing, muttering something under his breath before setting it atop the music book.

"You can throw that away too," he muttered. He then picked up a thin photo album and flipped the cover open, frowning at the amount of photos of him, Gilbert and Antonio in a variety of combinations. "This too…it doesn't exist anymore…" he set the album atop the music book as well with a sigh, allowing himself to briefly reminisce over the time when he, Antonio and Gilbert were attached at the hip before immediately returning to rifling through stuff he didn't even know why he had.

Ludwig sighed and placed the box along with the guitar pick on the desk. He wondered if the returning of his memory had come along with some strange form or shock or minor depression with the way Francis was acting. "H-hay, come on, let's go see those friends of yours, Arthur told me they'd be at the hangar if we needed them at all."

Francis sighed and looked up at the ceiling before answering. "Yeah. Sure."

Arthur was about to guide his plane out of the hangar for a fly when he spotted Ludwig and Francis entering the hangar, Francis looking gloomy and Ludwig looking worried. Furrowing his large eyebrows, he pulled his goggles up onto his forehead and removed his headset before killing the engine to his plane and jumping out.

"Hello you two," he smiled the best he could in hopes of confirming the gloomy look on Francis's face. When the Frenchman failed to return the greeting as enthusiastically as he normally would've, Arthur sighed and shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing's wrong," Francis's grin was horribly fake and even Alfred would've known that it was that.

"He's not fine. He's going through some strange form of shock or mild depression," Ludwig rolled his eyes. "I thought you'd know how to cheer him up a bit, was infecting our dorm with his dark cloud of negative feelings," Ludwig continued, Francis muttering about not being depressed or in shock.

"Hey, shut it, you sure sound like you are," Arthur huffed before patting his friend on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's fly a bit first."

Alfred and Matthew watched Arthur and Francis leave the hangar in their planes from their spots atop the crates off to the side on the hangar. Tilting his head to the side, Alfred looked at Matthew. "Mild depression or shock?" he questioned and Matthew sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that he didn't know. "What's up with that?"

"I don't know," Matthew then voiced his earlier action.

"You should spend some time with Francis once they return," Alfred then suggested and Matthew agreed by nodding his head. They fell silent and listened to the distant sound of propeller powered planes in the distance before Alfred spoke up once more. "Hey, not much time before school's out for the summer," he grinned.

"Yup, I know that. It'd be nice to finally not have to wake up so early in the morning all of the time," Matthew smiled and Alfred continued to grin.

"Man, I can't wait for the air show!" he piped excitedly. "It'll be awesome! There'll be fighters and then we'll be able to go to the one Artie's attending and we'll be able to see them demonstrate the laser tag dogfight thing!" he continued excitedly. "I can't wait!"

The two looked over to the entrance when Yao's NAF N3N-3 pulled in slowly before parking itself along a few other mono and biplanes. Yao pulled off his goggles along with the headset before jumping out of the plane. "Whoo! It's _so_ nice out! Beautiful for flying today," he grinned, approaching the two and jumping up onto the crates to sit next to them.

"Dude, it really is nice out, I agree," Alfred grinned.

"Hey, where's David? I haven't seen him yet today," Yao then asked, looking around the hangar in hopes of finding said Indian. He only found the Starduster parked next to an empty spot where Francis's Pietenpol just was. "Oh hey, where's Arthur and Francis too then?"

"They're up flying," Alfred answered, pointing up at the ceiling. "And I don't know where David is. You should ask Artie, he tends to have a knack for knowing where people are," he continued with a grin.

The three continued to just chat with each other about nothing in particular. It shifted from the upcoming air show, to thunderstorms, to Iggy and so on. Alfred wondered how they'd started with talking about the air show and it'd suddenly shifted to how cotton grew the way it did.

"I mean seriously! It's so…strange! I don't get how it works!" Yao whined. "Cotton grows really strangely."

"I agree," Matthew sighed. "It is pretty strange and a bit unbelievable that it literally grows like that," he continued and Yao resumed with whining about not liking biology. Their conversation was about to turn to talking about insects when Arthur's Jungmann and Francis's Pietenpol pulled into the hangar. "Well that was a short fly."

"Yeah, it kind of was," Yao agreed and Alfred slid off of the edge of the crates, pulling Matthew with him with a grin.

The two approached the other two pilots who were stepping out of their planes, Francis still looking a bit gloomy, though not as bad as he did when he first walked into the hangar. Alfred pushed Matthew forwards before pulling Arthur off to the side with a grin. The Canadian watched Alfred talk with Arthur before turning his attention to Francis who was watching him slightly expectantly. "Are you okay?"

There was a brief pause before Francis answered. "I'm okay, yeah."

Matthew huffed and placed his hands on his hips. "I don't believe you…"

"Fine, I'm just really tired okay?" Francis muttered, averting his gaze almost childishly. "I'm fine see?" he then grinned at his boyfriend the best he could. Matthew simply continued to pout at Francis in hopes of getting the Frenchman to cave in eventually.

It took a bit of time too before the Frenchman sighed and held his hand sup in a harmless gesture. "Alright, I'll tell you…" he muttered. "I don't really know how to explain it though…" Francis continued with a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "I…I don't really feel like I'm—I don't know. When I got back to the dorm, I didn't know what half of the stuff was in there. I mean, the minor things, like a guitar pick I apparently kept and a piece of paper with bad handwriting on it."

"I felt out of place there for some reason too…I know I'm in my right mind now, but I can't help but feel like I don't belong or something…" Matthew cocked his head to the side in slight confusion, though he slightly got why Francis probably felt out of place. It was like he was thrown into another world or something sci-fi related. He knew he was in the right time and the right place, but there were things there that he didn't know where there. Something like that, it was hard for even him to explain. "And some sort of, according to Ludwig, depression has come out of all of this memory set back stuff…"

Matthew sighed and thought over what he'd to next. He knew a few ways of curing mild depression (one being something that made him turn dark red), but this could be the 'strange shock' Ludwig had also mentioned.

Licking his lips, Matthew rubbed the back of his neck—he'd go with the mild depression, he'd wanted to try something out by the way. "H-hey, let's go, I can help you," he muttered. "Just follow me," Matthew continued and turned to walk out of the hangar, looking over his shoulder to make sure Francis was following.

The Frenchman stood there motionlessly for a moment before walking after Matthew, a slight look of confusion on his face.

Arthur pushed Alfred away from him after a rather long, tight and not to mention affectionate hug. He looked over to where Matthew and Francis just were and furrowed his eyebrows slightly when he saw that they were gone. "Hey…where'd those two go?"

"Oh, nowhere important~" he grinned down at his boyfriend before pulling him close once more. "Come with me and I'll show you."

XXXX

**Fail ending is fail. Lol, sorry for not updating yesterday, didn't exactly feel like doing so. Well, I really don't have much to say today, so please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**

**Fun Fact: All windmills but those in Ireland spin counter clockwise.**


	41. Chapter 41

** I honestly can't decide whether I prefer DeviantART or this place…and sometimes I feel like completely ditching both places, but I know I'd never be able to. ;A; I love them to much.**

**XXXX**

After all of that, the last of school went by rather quickly. Alfred had managed not to flunk his English final much to Arthur's surprise and Francis was no longer mildly depressed. The America would either make innuendoes or spontaneously thank Arthur for getting him laid (which made the Briton turn dark red). He would then earn a hand to the cheek, but it was all worth it—how was it not?

Gilbert was put on trial and Arthur and Alfred had decided not to attend while Matthew did. They didn't want to know the result, but with the sudden disappearance of the silver haired teen from school, it was basically a dead giveaway. Antonio apparently attended the trial as well.

Things in between Matthew and Francis had calmed down significantly as well ever since Gilbert's mental episode. All Matthew needed to do was tell Francis about his suicide attempt. Even though it wasn't required, Alfred thought that Matthew should tell him pretty soon. Matthew had waved his cousin off and told him that he was going to pretty soon.

At the current moment, it being the first official day of summer vacation, Alfred, David, Matthew and Arthur, along with Iggy, were hanging out in the hangar. It was like their little get-together area. Alfred was on top of the crates pushed up against the wall, snoozing in the sunlight while Matthew had himself seated at the table, finishing up the rest of the lasers for the planes. Arthur was sitting in the cockpit of his plane, checking the instrument panel, something he had to do before every flight. David was in the cockpit to his Starduster reading a book in Indo-Aryan, his main language. While all of that excitement was going on, Iggy was entertaining himself by chewing on one of the wheels to Francis's Pietenpol monoplane.

Matthew sighed and looked over at his shoulder and at his and Alfred's dog. He kind of wondered who'd get him once they separated almost completely, though it was obvious that Alfred would get Iggy. He'd miss the dog despite the way he was acting at the moment. He reached out and tugged on Alfred's muscle shirt to get the American's attention. His cousin snorted and opened one eye lazily to glance at him questioningly. "I thought Iggy was supposed to be done with his chewing by now."

"I dunno, he just won't give it up apparently…" Alfred yawned. Matthew grinned and returned to his work.

"Sounds a lot like you," he pointed out and Alfred grinned at his cousin before rolling onto his stomach. He whistled for the American Canadian shepherd who's ears pricked at the high pitched sound before bounding over and jumping up onto the crates. Iggy was clearly getting bigger, already one third the size of Alfred.

"Stop it Iggy, Bonerfoy's gonna murder you if he finds out you're still chewing on his precious," Alfred grinned, rubbing the dog's head and ears. Matthew rolled his eyes at the 'his precious' part before reaching up to pet Iggy as well.

They continued with what they were doing until the sound of an annoyed Ludwig and a rather inebriated Francis became notable. Alfred grinned and Iggy's ears perked at the sound of his favorite person to torment. Arthur had the priceless expression that read 'oh dear lord, here we go'. There was a brief moment of the sound of the two dorm mates talking before they finally entered, Francis holding two spoons in one hand while the other was slung around Ludwig's shoulder in support.

"Getting drunk already?" Alfred snickered as Iggy jolted forward to jump off, but was held back by Alfred who had a strong arm around the dog's waist.

"Igirisu! Supoon o shimasu!" Francis grinned, holding up the two spoons.

"And here goes his ability to be multilingual when drunk," Alfred continued, patting Iggy on the side. "Look Iggy, a drunk person," he snickered once more, finding what he'd just said humorous. "You don't want to be around them 'case they're weird."

"_Why_ is he speaking Japanese?" Ludwig then questioned.

"Artie spoke Chinese one day when he was drunk," Alfred pointed out with a broad grin. "And he sometimes sleep talks in Russian, so I'm assuming it's normal," he continued as he sat up straight, Iggy slipping out and bounding over to Francis.

The dog jumped up and pawed at Francis's hip, barking loudly in the process. "Ah, Iggy~! Usted es un perro grande ahora~!" Francis cooed drunkenly, bending over to pat the dog on the head only to have Iggy grab ahold of his sleeve and pull him down. Alfred watched with immense amusement as Francis toppled over with a rather blunt 'ow'. He then raised his hand and looked at Arthur as he stood up on wobbly legs. "Supoon o shimasu! Por favor?"

"What's up with the spoons?" Alfred asked, cocking an eyebrow in Arthur's direction. "He's really out of his mind…"

"Well…Arthur used to be able to play the spoons…" Ludwig pointed out as he helped Francis into a stable position. "And Francis would always make fun of him for it," he continued. "I can't remember how long ago that was though…"

Alfred grinned at Arthur broadly. "Are you serious? _Dude_! I've always wanted to know how that works!" he piped excitedly and Arthur groaned, hiding his face in his hands. He then muttered under his breath about just wanting to fly his damn plane before jumping out of the cockpit and onto the bottom wing of the plane.

"Fine…hand them over," Arthur sighed, out stretching an arm, palm open for the two spoons Francis was holding. Alfred grinned and turned to retrieve the spoons when he found Francis face down on the ground, Ludwig looking unwilling of aiding the drunk Frenchman. He approached the floored blond and bent over to tug the two spoons out of his hand. Whilst he was doing so, he heard Matthew mutter to himself about how embarrassing Francis was when drunk. Alfred then turned to give his boyfriend the two eating utensils.

Arthur let his hands fall into his lap before grabbing the two spoons and getting in a more comfortable position on the wing. He glanced at Alfred with a face that clearly read 'do I really have to do this?' before he started clicking the spoons together on his knee and against each other. The hangar made the sounds echo and enhanced it as Arthur found a catchy beat. Alfred's grin only broadened further if possible. "Why'd you take the time to learn to do that?" he asked once Arthur stopped.

"Alfred. I'm poor compared to you, don't exactly have the greatest father and do homework most of the time. I'm going to get bored," he muttered and Alfred huffed at the 'poor' part. He then grinned and tugged Arthur into one of his infamous, tight hugs.

"Artie can play the spoons~!" he happily exclaimed.

"Get off wanker…" Arthur grunted, but clearly wasn't resisting the extroverted American. Alfred finally let go of his boyfriend after a long moment of just hugging before glancing over at Francis who was still face down on the ground.

"Dude, is he seriously out?" he asked, stepping off of the bottom wing and trotting over to Francis, Iggy sniffing one of the Frenchman's hands. Standing over the mechanic for a moment, Alfred lightly tapped Francis on the head with a foot before grinning widely at Arthur. "Dude, he's seriously out!"

"Uh, he _did _drink quite a bit…" Ludwig pointed out as he rubbed the back of his head. "Said he was 'celebrating'…" he continued, turning his head to the side as Matthew stood up and approached Alfred. The American's cousin knelt down and tapped his boyfriend on the head before sighing.

"Yup. He's out," he announced and Alfred began snickering. Arthur simply shook his head from his spot on his plane before jumping back into the cockpit, announcing that he's going to take it for a fly. Alfred looked over at his boyfriend again and mock saluted him before walking around Francis and grabbing the passed out Frenchman by the ankles.

"Dead, drunk person coming through," he snickered as he drug Francis over to the crates so Arthur's path was cleared.

Arthur hung a hand over the edge of the cockpit and tugged his goggles over his eyes. "You have no idea how funny that looks," he grinned down at the two and Alfred grinned back and gave him a thumb up before resuming his dragging.

Once they made it almost all the way across the whole hangar, Matthew muttered once more about how embarrassing it was. Alfred sighed and straightened up with a heavy exhale before patting his cousin on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it's summer."

"It sure is."

Matthew was sitting at the table once more working on the lasers by the time Francis had regained consciousness. He was currently sitting atop the crates, muttering under his breath about this and that as Iggy snoozed almost on him. Alfred was off showing David some card tricks and the Indian was clearly mesmerized by the things Alfred was able to do with a deck of cards.

The Canadian sighed and set down the last laser. He was finally done after a brief hiatus and he wanted to save the attaching for later since Ludwig had just recently left. He then looked up at Francis who was currently shoving Iggy's head off of his thigh only to have the dog set it back onto his leg. "Stop it chien, it's hot enough already…"

"Hey Francis?" Matthew asked, catching the French college student's attention. Francis blinked and hummed for Matthew to continue. "Remember when you walked up on Marco and I and you thought I was with him and then you just left…?" he continued nervously. Francis nodded his head and leant back, supporting himself with his arms.

"Yes, I do. Why?"

"We-well, I thought that you deserve to know what happened after that…" Matthew continued and Francis stiffened at the possibilities his mind was creating. "I-I told Marco to drive me home and he did and…and when I did I first went to my room just to think things over," he started the story. "And then…"

Francis waited patiently for Matthew to continue. "And I…I went into the kitchen and…" Matthew swallowed. It was so much harder than he'd originally assumed and Matthew was afraid that he was losing his confidence. So he pushed himself on. "I-I almost committed suicide Francis…y-you better thank Al for saving me…I mean…if it weren't for him, I'd be…" he trailed off before sighing heavily. "I-I just want you to know that I love you to death and…we need to improve our communication skills…"

Matthew finally looked Francis in the eye to see deep concern and something else. Francis stared down at his lap before shoving Iggy off of his leg and sliding off of the crates. Matthew was about to ask what Francis was doing when the Frenchman tugged him into a tight hug. There was a brief moment of Francis hugging him before Matthew finally responded by hugging the Frenchman back. He leant into Francis and closed his eyes, pressing his head into his boyfriend's chest.

Arthur's plane pulled into the hangar and once he parked it next to Yao's, Arthur killed the engine and jumped out, approaching Alfred and David. "Okay, what's going on with Matthew and Francis?" he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the two who were currently hugging each other. Alfred looked over at his cousin and his boyfriend and shrugged his shoulders.

"I honestly don't have a clue, but they're having some sort of love fest over there," he grinned before returning his attention to David. "Pick a card ol' chap," he grinned and Arthur cocked a large eyebrow.

"That was probably the fakes British accent I've ever heard."

XXXX

**Chien – Dog**

** Mm, I knew this one would turn out horribly short, but oh well. I've been doing that lately. Hm. I really don't have much to say today. So yeah, please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;D**

**Fun Fact: Facebook is currently paying people to hack the site so they know where the bugs are.**


	42. Chapter 42

** Baaw. I have nothing to say.**

** …**

** Actually, yes, I do have something to say. Guess what? This story's almost over. I can guarantee you that there isn't any more than five chapters left of it. If there is…well, you have all right to laugh at my face (virtually that is). But I'm going to guarantee you that there aren't more than five chapters remaining…God, I'm going to miss this story…;A;**

** Oh, and I'll be gone for South Carolina for spring break and I'm not going to bring my laptop, so yeah, no updates over spring break on anything. Well, I hope I'll be able to update this Friday, but we'll see. :3**

**XXXX**

Since they day was horribly humid, Alfred and his friends, excluding Yao, had decided that a water fight would do. Well, Alfred decided it, a few preferred sitting in the air conditioning. He had gathered up all of his water guns and bought a load of water balloons. He didn't exactly have the biggest backyard, so they had walked to the park, carrying two buckets full of filled water balloons.

The air show was in two days, so Alfred had taken the liberty of pestering Arthur about the upcoming event. Matthew had gotten Ludwig's help with attaching the extra lasers to the planes along with the receivers.

"Ha, ha! You'll never catch meee~!" Alfred cried happily as he ran from a currently soaking wet Matthew. He held tight to the water balloon in his hand as he fled from his scary Canadian cousin, laughing euphorically as he did so. He quickly turned and threw the balloon at Matthew who flinched back and received even more water on him along with triumphant laughing from Alfred. "America's number one!"

Arthur and Francis were currently watching Alfred, Matthew and David goof off from their cool spot under a tree. The Briton couldn't help but think about how dumb this all looked though—five almost fully grown men running around an open park with water balloons and Super Soakers. It was embarrassing, honest…more like four since Arthur refused to co-operate.

"This is so childish," Arthur sighed, shaking his head slowly.

"What? I don't think it's childish," Francis grinned. "Oh, hey, I have a question for you."

"Ugh. I wonder what it could be," Arthur huffed, voice full of sarcasm. He didn't even bother to look at the guy sitting next to him he considered his 'friend'. Honestly, he didn't know what to call Francis.

"You ever play baseball?"

"Base—what? No," Arthur huffed, furrowing his eyebrows. He at first didn't recognize the sport Francis mentioned. He turned to look questioningly at the Frenchman when he earned a water balloon to the face.

Alfred continued his boisterous, albeit annoying laughing as he ran wide circles around the whole field until David finally caught up with him and got him in the face with water. "Whoo! One point for India~!" the young man cheered just as Matthew jumped onto Alfred's back with a triumphant 'got'chya!', the two tumbling to the ground. They continued to wrestle a bit until Arthur's angry voice caught their attention.

"_What in bloody hell does that have to do with baseball? Come back here you cheese eating surrender monkey!"_ the British pilot wailed as he ran full speed after Francis who was borderline skipping. Alfred snickered and managed to shove Matthew off without a problem, making the Canadian huff in irritation.

The American ran after the two other blonds, easily catching up to them giving that he was faster and jumped on Arthur's back much like Matthew did to him not too long ago. "I'm gonna—omph! _Get off of me you sodding git!_" Arthur snapped as he tried to wiggle out from under Alfred.

"Ha, ha! You'll never escape! America for the win bitches!" Alfred cried happily.

"Get off!" Arthur repeated his demand. Alfred simply crossed his arms and grinned down at his boyfriend, cocking an eyebrow as he did so. Arthur glared up at Alfred before huffing and sucking it up.

Francis approached the two and plopped down, cross legged in front of Arthur. "Honhonhon, looks like England has been conquered by America~" he grinned toothily.

"Dude! That was an epically awesome French accent! Do it again!" Alfred piped. Francis didn't exactly have a French accent giving that he was adopted, but apparently he was pretty good at it.

Grinning, Francis rubbed his chin as he thought about what to say next. "Alfred, you're so childish!" Arthur barked as Francis began talking about how the grass was making his butt wet. The commotion continued as Matthew and David approached the three, Arthur yelling at Alfred, Francis saying whatever was on his mind in a, according to Alfred, 'legit' French accent while said American was laughing boisterously.

Eventually the three calmed down and Alfred asked if anyone had seen Yao lately, having not seen the Chinese pilot ever since school got out.

"I don't know," Arthur huffed. Francis shrugged his shoulders in response, not knowing where Yao was either.

"I thought Yao was hanging out with Ivan lately," Matthew pointed out, looking at Alfred who frowned for a brief moment at the mentioning of Ivan before perking up once more, deciding to change the subject.

"So! Is everyone ready for the air show?" Alfred piped, an obvious amount of excitement in his tone.

"Eyup. I'm ready," Arthur waved a hand in the air.

"I'm ready too!" David grinned, seating himself next to Arthur before remarking that the grass _was_ in fact making his butt wet.

"Dude! It's going to be so awesome! I can't wait to see the fighters too! I really want to see those, I _love_ the F-15! The F-16's okay, but the 15's so much cooler!" Alfred continued, looking down at his boyfriend and patting him atop the head. Arthur simply tried to swat Alfred's hand away only to have the American ruffle his hair.

"And we're not important?" Francis asked, feigning hurt.

"Yeah, you're important, but fighters are _so_ fast!" Alfred grinned.

"Then we're not important," Francis continued his feigning, hanging his head in the process. There was a brief moment of silence and Arthur almost asked Alfred to get off of him before Alfred spoke up once more, interrupting his boyfriend.

"Hey guys, do any of you play instruments? Or used to?" Alfred asked, leaning back, propping himself on his arms, his hands on either side of Arthur's waist.

"I've played guitar, saxophone, violin and tried the piano. Failed at piano," Francis answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"You failed at piano? You seem like the kind of guy that would know how to play that thing…" Alfred muttered before looking down at Arthur with a grin, tapping the Briton atop his head. "So? How 'bout you Artie? Hopefully something interesting."

"Ugh…I play guitar and used to play the viola," Arthur answered, albeit reluctantly. Alfred found interest in the guitar part since Arthur didn't seem like the kind of guy to play the guitar.

"Electric or acoustic?" he asked, hoping that it was electric to make things even more interesting.

"…Electric…" Arthur answered, resting his face in the wet grass below. Alfred grinned and leant back forward.

"Seriously? Dude! That made you even cooler now! Why didn't you tell me? You should play for me some time! It'd be so awesome!" he suggested as Arthur muttered into the soil below. "So David, what about you?"

The Indian grinned and leant back, arms supporting himself. "Well, I play drums and used to play the trumpet," he replied and Alfred grinned before tugging Matthew into a one armed hug.

"And we all know Boring Ol' Mattie doesn't play anything whatsoever," he said cheekily and Matthew crossed his arms with a huff. It was his pet peeve when Alfred called him Boring Ol' Mattie since it basically summarized his life, but he had learned to cope with it. He'd learned to cope with everything that had to do with that topic. "And me being awesome and heroic, I obviously play acoustic guitar."

"And the saxophone," Matthew pointed out a bit darkly.

"Shh!" Alfred shushed before Matthew shoved out of Alfred's one armed embrace.

"You played the saxophone too? When? You don't seem like the kind of guy to take interest in that kind of thing," Francis grinned.

"Ugh…yeah…I went through a weird uh, phase kind of thing. I played it around seventh grade, something like that," Alfred answered waving his hand in the air dismissively. Back at around the beginning of seventh grade, he'd taken a huge interest in jazz music for some reason and picked up the saxophone to give it a try. He'd heard from others that he was really good, but after a year, he'd dropped it, having lost interest. He tended to lose interest in some things quickly. "Why?"

"Oh, that's about when I started playing," Francis answered.

"Hey! How about sports? Anyone?" Alfred changed the subject once more.

"Football," Arthur immediately answered and Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. He was obviously thinking of American football, not soccer though. As Alfred continued to stare at Arthur like that, the British pilot took a moment to realize that you called football soccer in America. "Soccer. I play soccer," Arthur corrected himself with a slight hint of irritation in his voice. He didn't really like using the word soccer, but he'd suck it up for now.

"I play tennis and soccer too," Francis followed up. "Angleterre and I are goal keepers," he continued with a grin and Arthur nodded his head.

"Really? Wow, is having soccer balls kicked at you fun?" Alfred asked, it meaning as a joke and Arthur kicked his leg back, getting Alfred square in the middle of his back with his heel. "Ow! Artie, that wasn't nice!" Alfred whined. "Ugh…you're mean sometimes you know that? How about you David? Anything you play?"

"I also play soccer and I play baseball."

"Oh, baseball's awesome," Alfred grinned, adjusting his position atop Arthur's back.

"Hockey…of course," Matthew said. He really did feel a bit boring.

Alfred then perked up, getting off of Arthur and standing up. "Dudes! We should totally get Yao and get a game going!"

"Oh yeah! We should, it'd be really fun!" David joined in. "It'll be a three on three!"

The two began excitedly talking about a soccer game they could get started and were about to run off when Arthur stopped them by standing up and tapping Alfred on the shoulder. "Clean up your water balloons first."

It'd taken quite a bit of time to clean up all of the rubber balloons that had been popped, for Arthur had been pointing them out whenever he spotted them. It was mostly Francis and Alfred cleaning up as well. Once they finished though, all but Matthew and Arthur high tailed it to their vehicles, Alfred calling over his shoulder that he'll be picking up Yao after calling him.

Arthur and Francis drove to their houses to get their goalie gloves and Arthur to get a ball. They then drove to a soccer field that was open and waited for Alfred to arrive with Yao. It didn't take long for Yao's loud voice to be heard. They were a bit surprised though, to see Ivan following behind, Alfred running alongside Yao. "Dudes, let's get this party started!" at least he wasn't being a crank around the Russian.

Arthur tossed Alfred a pair of shin pads, Yao already having some on. Francis had to dig around for extra shin guards for Matthew giving that the Canadian didn't own a pair of shin guards specifically for soccer.

As Matthew pulled on the pads, Ivan walked over to the small set of bleachers off to the side and seated himself soundlessly. When Alfred had arrived to pick up Yao, he wouldn't stop sending him this distrusting look, but he couldn't blame the American.

Alfred approached the center of the field and set the ball in the middle, stepping back and to the left. "Alright, I'm ready! You ready Artie?" he called, looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend who was standing at the goal net. The Briton raised his hand and gave Alfred a thumb up, he then looked a head of himself and Francis gave the same gesture. "Cool, Mattie, whenever you're ready."

Alfred, Arthur and Matthew were on one team while Yao, David and Francis were on the other. Alfred of course put them together and once you looked a bit further into it, it wasn't exactly the best match up giving that both Alfred and Matthew couldn't play soccer. "I'm ready," Matthew nodded his head and Alfred gave the go.

Arthur watched Yao immediately get the ball away from Alfred and Matthew in some fancy maneuver and he sighed, facepalming in the process. Those two…he didn't know what they were trying to do, all he knew was that this didn't look like a game of soccer at all. He shuffled to the side as Yao passed the ball to David, the Indian dribbling it for a moment before kicking it for the goal. Arthur easily caught the ball and ran out, kicking the ball far out.

Once again, Alfred and Matthew were doing whatever the hell they were trying to do as Yao did some fancy footwork to get the ball away from the two cousins. Once again, Arthur was forced to shuffle to the side and catch the ball as Yao kicked it.

"Alright guys, pairing Francis, Yao and David together isn't fair and I have no idea what the bloody hell you two are trying to do," Arthur sighed, walking out of the goal net and to the middle of the field. "Let's switch it up a bit, frog, stop dancing and get over here!" Arthur called, motioning with hand for the wavy haired goal keeper to come over.

"I have no idea what Alfred and my cher are trying to do, so are we going to switch up the positions?" Francis asked, leaning on Matthew, supporting himself on the Canadian's shoulder. Alfred huffed and crossed his arms, averting his gaze.

"Yeah, I think we should switch things up," Arthur sighed, pulling off his goalie gloves. "Al and Matthew should be keepers, David, you're on my team," Arthur instructed. David grinned and walked over to Alfred and Arthur as the American was pulling the goalie gloves on. Matthew sighed and accepted the gloves Francis handed him, muttering under his breath about how it was good he was used to having things sent at him.

They reset the game, Alfred jogging over to the goal on his side while Matthew did to the opposite. He gave Arthur a thumb up the best he could with the thick glove on, grinning toothily at his boyfriend. Arthur waved to Alfred before grinning at Francis as the Frenchman set the ball in the middle of the field. "Bring it frog."

"Will do," Francis grinned.

They started the game and it now looked like a soccer match. Arthur did a fancy move that kicked the ball over his head from behind his back. Alfred grinned and thought to himself about how cool that move looked.

The Briton spun around Yao and approached the opposite goal. Matthew licked his lips and got ready to catch the ball. Okay, never mind having used to be a goal keeper for hockey, this goal net was _enormous _and he didn't know how to properly…catch the ball. Well, now he'd know what it felt like…hopefully he wouldn't have to dive.

He crouched down on instinct and got ready when…Francis basically tackled Arthur from the side. The two landed on the ground and Arthur immediately flared up at that. "You're not supposed to do that!" he roared heatedly.

"Ha, ha! But I thought it was fun!" Francis laughed.

"Are you _kidding_ me? That hurt!" Arthur wailed, shoving the wavy haired blond off of him. "You totally would've gotten a red card for that!" he continued, standing up. Francis simply grinned and rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at Alfred who was currently laughing his ass off from afar. Matthew sighed in relief and straightened up, shaking his hands which were already getting sweaty and hot in the restrictive gloves. The humidity wasn't making it any better either.

He picked up the ball that had rolled a bit into the goal box and glanced at the two blonds once more, Francis standing up and brushing himself off. "You're welcome cher~!"

"Alright! Let's get a real game going! No tackling!" Arthur huffed, glaring at Francis who blew a kiss to Matthew before snickering and throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders.

"Sure, sure."

"No I'm serious," Arthur muttered, shoving Francis's arm off of his shoulders. They both stood on each side of the center of the field, Yao and David joining them, the Chinese boy snickering to himself likely from just seeing Francis 'illegally' tackle Arthur. "Now you're going to be fair alright?"

"Aww, fine."

XXXX

** Actually, I don't think I'll be able to update on Friday since I was meaning to update yesterday, but got too tired…and fell asleep. Okay, I have nothing else to say…**

**Fun Fact: Due to gravitational effects, you weight slightly less when the moon is directly overhead.**


	43. Chapter 43

** I'm back~**

** Did'ya miss me? No? Oh…**

**XXXX**

The first thing that registered was that it was extremely warm. It wasn't uncomfortable though, it was rather pleasant. The second thing that registered was that there were two different sources of the warmth and that was when Arthur decided to open his eyes. Okay, never mine, the warmth coming from the sun was nice, the warmth coming from Alfred was making his back sweaty.

He looked over his shoulder, grabbing a hold of Alfred's wrists in an attempt to pry his arms from around his waist. Arthur was a bit upset about the fact that his American boyfriend was drooling on him…

"Al," Arthur called, tightening his grip on the American's wrists. "Al, get up."

"Hrmph…noooo," Alfred drawled out tiredly. Arthur was surprised that the American had been awoken quite easily, normally, he was out until his brain told him it was about time to wake up. The Briton wiggled out of Alfred's loose embrace and glanced at the clock, taking note that it was seven thirty in the morning. Alfred rolled over and onto his stomach, reached out and groggily shoved his glasses on. Squinting his eyes, Alfred itched at the top of his head and shifted his position so he could look at Arthur. "It's seven thirty in the morning."

"We've got an airshow this morning," Arthur retorted and he heard Alfred huff as he approached his bag so he could change his clothes. He stretched his arms up before letting them fall at the hem of his shirt so he could pull it off. Just as he pulled it over his head, Arthur tossed the shirt off in a random direction (he'd get it later) and was about to pick up a fresh shirt before he felt Alfred's arms snaking around his chest. "Al," a warning clear in his voice.

"C'mon, can't we just sleep in a bit more? It's super early and I don't think the air show literally starts until one, can't we sleep until then?"

"Wha—you sleep in until one?" Arthur asked, voice full of disbelief, though it shouldn't be much of a surprise. Alfred huffed and muttered something under his breath before giving a 'hup!' and walking backwards before falling back on the bed with Arthur atop him. "Alfred! Let me go, I want to get ready for the day!"

"Noooo! Could you at _least_ pay a bit attention to me?" Alfred whined and Arthur huffed, falling silent. True, he hadn't really spent too much time with Alfred lately…he really wondered how Matthew's mornings went. "So Artie, you wanna do something fun?"

"Not fun, but kissing's just fine…" Arthur muttered, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "But don't get too far into it!" he added as Alfred rolled over so he was straddling Arthur. The American grinned down at the British pilot who could only smile back before Alfred leant down to kiss Arthur. Eyelids slipped closed, Arthur pressed into the show of affection and wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck as he felt one of the American's hands card through his blond hair. They briefly separated, staring into each other's eyes before coming together once more. Alfred decided to poke his tongue into Arthur's mouth and was immediately met by Arthur's tongue and they—

"Ah~! It's such a beautiful day out~!" Alfred literally jumped off of Arthur and off of the bed, landing with a painful sounding 'thud' on the floor. Arthur's face had burst a dark red as his attention snapped to the extra voice.

None other than Francis just finished climbing through the window, stepping inside of Alfred's room. He straightened out his clothes before grinning up at the two. "You really need to close your window overnight mon ami," he pointed out. Alfred and Arthur had fallen asleep together, listening to the sound of crickets and the occasional car, they couldn't exactly be blamed for wanting to enjoy something.

As Arthur finally registered that it was Francis who had just climbed through the window, he began wailing angrily at the top of his lungs. On the other hand, Alfred was thinking over how it was so Francis to climb through someone's bedroom window…how romantic, Alfred was starting to feel pretty bad for his cousin. Alfred then proceeded with crossing his arms and pouting, staring up at the ceiling from his spot on the ground as Arthur began attempting to strangle Francis to death.

Matthew perked up when he saw Alfred exit his house and rolled the window down, having just taken a few minutes with laughing his ass off watching Francis climb the side of Alfred's house with nothing but his own hands and feet. He smiled as Alfred stopped next to the fancy car, looking a bit upset, though there was a hint of humor in his expression. "Hey Al. Where's Francis?"

"Artie's in the process of stuffing him in the washing machine," Alfred grinned and Matthew cocked an eyebrow. He honestly wasn't that surprised, Arthur could find out many ways to cause harm to the Frenchman. Matthew nodded his head and they fell silent for a moment, Alfred lazily looking at the car. He furrowed his eyebrows—this didn't look like Matthew's car…"Is that Francis's?"

"Yup."

"And he let you drive it?"

"Yup."

"Damn, lucky," Alfred huffed. Francis owned a pretty ritzy car and at times, he wished that he had one, but he was saving up for something even snazzier. Hah. Take that Bonerfoy.

Arthur slammed the front door open and stomped over to Alfred, grabbing his wrist wordlessly and dragging him back into the house. Alfred simply grinned sheepishly at his cousin before he was drug through the front door. He then turned to look at Arthur, his grin turning mischievous. "Did you close the door?"

"Yes. That frog will have a lot of damn trouble getting out," Arthur huffed as they went up the stairs.

"You're lucky I have such a big washing machine," Alfred snickered and Arthur huffed, shoving the door to Alfred's room open and finally letting go of the American's hand. The Briton then returned to changing his clothes as Alfred watched, drinking in the sight with a grin. The sound of the front door closing signaled that Matthew had come in to retrieve his boyfriend from the perils of Alfred's nicely sized washing machine. Although, Francis was a bit on the short side, just a sliver taller than his dear Artie…"Artie, can I shove you into the washing machine too once Mattie's done getting Bonerfoy out?"

Did he just say that out loud? He better not have, but the way his boyfriend froze was priceless, though Alfred should probably cool Arthur down before he even exploded on him. "What?"

"Nothing! I love you Artie~!" Alfred laughed nervously, walking over to Arthur and pulling off his boxers to change. He only slept in boxers. "So! Do you want to do anything nice after the air show? You know, just the two of us?" he then asked in hopes of it averting Arthur's thought process.

"Maybe going out for dinner…" Arthur muttered, irritation thick in his voice.

"Can I choose the restaurant?" Alfred asked hopefully, grinning at his boyfriend in the sweetest way he could. He'll woo Artie out of being angry.

"No," damn. Mission failed. Alfred just settled with pulling on a pair of shorts before tugging Arthur into a hug, locking their lips together. The Briton was slightly caught off guard with that tiny squeak he let out, but he immediately joined in with the activity as if he were ready for it.

"How about we finish what we started?" Alfred asked once they separated, a smile stretching his lips. Arthur hummed in agreement and Alfred guided Arthur back to his bed.

Matthew pulled the door to the washing machine open and peeked in to find none other than his boyfriend cramped into the one fourth full washing machine. The Frenchman side-glanced in curiosity at the door being opened before grinning. "Bonjour mon amour! How long has this towel been in here?" he immediately went to asking, motioning to the American flag towel he was atop.

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows at the spontaneous question before thinking back to the last time the towel could've been used. "I think it was last used when Al and I went down south, so that would be since spring break."

"Wow, Amerique doesn't use his oversized washing machine much then," Francis mulled before sticking a hand out. "Help me out please?" Matthew rolled his eyes and grabbed ahold of Francis's hand before pulling his boyfriend out.

"How long were you in there?"

"Not too long. But that thing has a good lock," Francis huffed, inspecting the door to the washing machine. "It doesn't even look like it even has a lock…"

"That's because you have to push in first before pulling…" Matthew pointed out. Francis shrugged his shoulder and turned to leave, Matthew following after and reaching out to hold the Frenchman's hand only to receive a nasty shock.

"Ow!" they both yelped simultaneously and Matthew glared back at the washing machine. It was typical Alfred would forget to use a static preventer.

Arthur had his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of Alfred's fingers running through his hair as the American was kissing him. He was on his back, Alfred straddling him once more and he didn't need to worry about Francis climbing through their window again.

"We'll never leave this house if we keep this up," Arthur muttered once Alfred pulled back for breath.

"Aww, is that an excuse?" Alfred whined, though he was still smiling down at Arthur. The Briton simply huffed and said a brief 'no' before they resumed with their make out session. Alfred stuck his tongue into Arthur's mouth and was met with Arthur's tongue once more with a slight sense of déjà vu. They didn't necessarily fight for dominance giving that that had already been decided as Alfred made sure he covered every spot in Arthur's mouth.

They continued before the need for air over took them once more and Alfred pulled away. "I'm going to miss you during college," Arthur stated, his eyes still closed and Alfred's shoulders slumped slightly.

"You know I don't like talking about that, and can't you visit over the summer?" he asked. Hopefully Arthur could, they wouldn't have to deal with school together, that was kind of a pain, they couldn't exactly kiss in public without being bothered.

"Al, I can't afford that and college…" Arthur opened his eyes, a hint of sadness and slight disappointment in himself in the midst of those green orbs. Alfred deflated and his bottom lip stuck out slightly.

"What about your plane?"

Arthur fell silent. He really hadn't thought over what he'd do with his gift from Alfred…he couldn't exactly bring it to England with him either. "I…I might have to sell it…" he was extremely hesitant when he said that. What was the point in lying? That'd be a terrible thing to do.

Alfred deflated even more and the look of severe hurt in his sky blue eyes made Arthur want to take what he said back. "Can't I keep it?"

"Well…" Arthur thought over that before letting a soft smile stretch his lips. "Yeah. You can keep it I guess," he continued and Alfred brightened a tad. "But!" he cut in, catching Alfred's attention. "You have to get someone to use it every now and then. I don't want to come home to a piece of rust."

"Don't worry Artie! I can get Bonerfoy to take it for a spin every now and then!" Alfred grinned, brightening a bit further and Arthur's smile grew before he leant up to kiss the childish American.

"I still wonder how I wasn't able to come up with that first."

"It's 'cause I'm awesome!" Alfred grinned and Arthur was about to say that he sounded like Gilbert before shutting up, reminding himself that the poor guy had landed himself in prison…or an insane asylum. Arthur sat up, kissed Alfred on the lips briefly before cuddling into the American's chest. Alfred grinned and wrapped his arms around Arthur, deciding that he'd forget about the whole Arthur going to England thing for now. "I wuv joo Artie~"

"Please don't say it like that," Arthur requested, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

They eventually stopped their love fest for the moment and got ready to go to the airport. They were still leaving rather early for the event, but Arthur being Arthur, he wanted to be early. "We'll be flying to Mankato just so you know," the pilot pointed out and Alfred grinned.

"Better than any ol' car eh?" it was more of a statement than a question and this made him unique. In a way.

"Are you fine with leaving your truck at the airport?" Arthur then asked and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm totally fine with that, I mean. It's old and rusty and…well, I don't really care if anyone steals it to be honest…" he grinned and it was Arthur's turn to roll his eyes. Sometimes, it felt like Alfred either cared, or didn't care, never in between.

They stepped into Alfred's rust bucket of a vehicle and took a moment too long to start up the poor thing. "Oh, and Francis has managed to make a deal with someone about a new plane."

"Oh really? How much did it cost him?" Alfred asked, mildly curious as he pulled the truck out of the drive way. "Oh, and is it a bi or monoplane?"

"I have no idea about what type of plane it was since he didn't tell my anything specific. And it cost him his plane and a few thousands of dollars," Arthur answered.

"What do you mean by his plane?"

"It's kind of like a trade I guess," Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "The guy's in Wisconsin, so it'll only take him a few hours. Hopefully not enough to make him late…God, that'd be embarrassing," he then shook his head. "_You _on the other hand, should've already raked up enough money for a new car."

"In fact I have," Alfred grinned. "For a while too. Probably even before I met you, I just never really got to the part where I kick the laziness and actually _go_ to a car dealership," he continued and Arthur rolled his eyes once more. "I do plan on getting something super fancy though!"

"Why?"

"Because I wanna," Alfred huffed. Arthur smiled and pat his boyfriend on the shoulder before looking out the windshield. They eventually arrived at the small airport Arthur's plane was at and they stepped out of Alfred's old truck, the American patting it roughly on the hood before continuing on with Arthur. They entered the hangar and noted that the Pietenpol Francis owned was absent. It looked a bit out of place without the monoplane sitting next to Arthur's Bucker Jungmann.

Arthur and Alfred climbed into the biplane and Alfred waited for Arthur to finish up the regular checkup. The Briton then looked over his shoulder, gave the American a thumb up and started up the aircraft. "Alright Artie, we're gonna totally dominate that air show."

_"I'm not so sure, I think you'll be fawning over the fighter jets before it even starts,"_ Arthur spoke his suspicions and Alfred grinned.

"You have no hope in me, honest."

"_No, I just know you Al,"_ Arthur said and Alfred shook his head, smiling nonetheless. They were eventually up in the air when Alfred asked the next question.

"Oh Artie! How will we get the lasers on Bonerfoy's new plane in time?"

_"No worries, we won't have to,"_ Arthur started. "_The guy he's trading planes with is a pretty good mechanic and apparently has already put them on for Francis. I think I heard him mention the negotiation a few weeks ago."_

"Weeks? He could've at _least_ told us he was getting a new ride!" Alfred exclaimed, leaning forward as if he were actually speaking to Arthur without the headset. "Or you or Mattie could've told me! Don't leave me in the dark," his tone turned into a childish whine and Alfred could just see the slight head movement that accompanied with Arthur's often-used eye-roll.

They eventually arrived at the Mankato airport. Alfred noted that there was almost nobody at the scene at the moment giving that they were rather early to the event. He did see a few fighter jets pulling into the hangar to sit until the air show started. The American ended up drooling over them for a moment before he snapped back to attention when the Bucker Jungmann jolted from landing on the runway. He grinned—this runway was enormous. Arthur's plane felt really tiny now.

Eventually, Arthur pulled the biplane off to the side and onto the grass so other planes could use the runway. He would put it away earlier, he was a bit preoccupied with listening to a rather angry sounding Yao over his headset, the Chinese pilot's biplane flying right over them, accompanied by David's Starduster.

"Oh hey Artie, why does Bonerfoy have to give the guy money too if it's a trade?" Alfred asked as he jumped out of the British pilot's biplane.

"Hm? Oh, mainly because his plane's value is lower than the one he's getting apparently," Arthur waved a hand in the air a bit carelessly. Alfred was about to say something else when he picked up on the sound of jet engines. Grinning widely, he looked over his shoulder just as a formation of F-16's flew over their heads, Arthur looking up as well.

"Wow Artie, look at that!" he pointed up into the sky. Yao and David landed just as Alfred said that and they pulled their biplanes up to Arthur's, Yao jumping out and borderline tackling Arthur.

"Why didn't you wait for us? That wasn't nice!" the Chinese pilot wailed, hands tightly gripping Arthur's shoulders as he shook the Briton rather violently.

"Cool down Yao, cool down!" Arthur demanded and the Chinese pilot stopped by huffing, crossing his arms and turning his back on Arthur. David qualified for having a sweatdrop crawling down the side of his head in slight embarrassment as he watched his Chinese friend act like a child.

"He's just…being Yao," David laughed humorously and Yao huffed once more before immediately cooling down at the sight of Ivan's nice sports car pulling up. He grinned and waved excitedly as he bound over to the silver haired Russian. The three watched Yao hug Ivan tightly, the Russian hugging him back before saying something that made Yao run back to them with a huge grin, Ivan following behind.

"Well, looks like those two have warmed up to each other rather nicely," Arthur remarked and David smiled, crossing his arms. Alfred simply decided not to respond, he resumed with drooling over the F-16's that were currently landing.

"Artie, look at those, seriously! They're _so _cool!" Alfred piped, grabbing ahold of Arthur's upper arm and shaking his boyfriend slightly. Arthur simply sighed and muttered about himself not being cool anymore in Alfred's view now that the fighter jets have arrived on the scene.

"One moment Al, I'm going to go get my plane in the hangar," Arthur excused himself and climbed back into his biplane, David remarking that he and Yao should do the same thing. Alfred, of course, was too busy watching the arriving F-22's.

Alfred continued to fawn over then until his cousin pat him on the shoulder out of seemingly nowhere, making the American jump. "I asked you if Francis has arrived yet."

"What? Oh, sorry, the F-22's were more interesting," Alfred grinned, and Matthew rolled his eyes before the American continued. "No, Bonerfoy hasn't arrived yet. I don't really think the air show starts in two or three hours though, so we could go out for lunch or something if Bonerfoy comes on time," he returned to watching the fighter jet before leaning over and hanging himself off of Matthew's shoulder. "Mattie, I want one sooo bad!"

"No."

"Aww, you're so meaaan!" Alfred whined before taking a dumb moment to look around for his boyfriend. "Wait…where'd Artie go? And David and Wang-Man?"

"I'm assuming they went to park their planes in the hangar while you were ignoring them," Matthew spoke. "But that's my assumption."

"You're so mean Mattie," Alfred snickered and Matthew rolled his eyes, muttering a slight 'it's true' mainly to his earlier statement about Alfred ignoring his other friends.

"Sure. God, I've been mulling over syncing my laptop with the computers we installed on their planes…" Matthew muttered, raking a hand through his wavy hair. "It's…taxing to think about. I honestly don't think it's that hard, but it sounds so complicated…"

"What do you have to do?"

"Your brain will malfunction if I even told you the steps."

"You're mean," Alfred restated, this time, his expression more of a pout. "Oh look Mattie! FOX News is here!" he then pointed out, pointing over to the news crew getting ready for the air show. "Yeah! This is so awesome!"

"Ugh, they'll be bugging us once our little display is done…" Matthew sighed.

"You're no fun Mattie! Come on! Is it because Bonerfoy isn't here?" Alfred asked, mocking hurt as he swung an arm around Matthew's shoulders and tugging his cousin close. He couldn't help but grin when Matthew cocked an eyebrow and he let his cousin go. "And it isn't bad to be recognized every now and then."

"Well…true and—"

"Whoa!" Alfred cut his relative off and pointed an index finger to the sky. "I didn't think they'd bring out the P-51's! Hell yeah!" he whooped as a formation of six P-51 Mustang's flew over their heads. "This is going to be the best air show ever!"

"How did you even know they were P-51's?"

"Well, ever since I met Artie, I've gained quite a bit more interest in aviation," Alfred grinned. He proceeded with watching the Mustangs fly around before landing one by one. "Ah, those are so cool…"

"Yeah, you'd have to admit, they are pretty cool," Matthew smiled.

Alfred perked up at the sound of another propeller powered aircraft and looked off to the west before his grin widened. "I'm assuming that's Bonerfoy," he remarked and Matthew turned to look as well, looking rather curious. The Canadian grinned at the sight of a blue and white biplane flying in and waved his hand high in the air, receiving a barely visible salute.

The plane came in low before corkscrewing almost literally, right over their heads, Alfred yelling 'showoff!' after the French pilot, though a wide grin stretched his lips. They watched the plane, which looked literally, new, land on the runway and pull over to them. The Frenchman opened the enclosed cockpit and pulled off his headset right after the engine was killed.

"Whew! This beauté is much faster than my old model!" Francis grinned, patting the side of the plane. "It's a real shame that the cockpit's enclosed, but its' still a great ride!"

"Oh, that thing's so cool," Alfred grinned, approaching Francis's blue and white biplane. "Looks like you're in the biplane club now," he continued, looking at the Frenchman who rolled his eyes, uttering a small 'congratulations' to himself.

Arthur approached the three, eyeing the new biplane with interest. "Is that the new thing you traded for?" he asked, getting as close to it as Alfred was. "It's nice, I'd have to say."

"I know right?" Francis grinned. "It's a Pitts Special. It's one of those planes like yours that are designed for aerobatics and the like," he continued. "I was looking for one that wasn't red and white, or red, white and blue with stars. Typical Americans, it took a while to find a blue and white one, but lucky me, there was a guy in Wisconsin and it wasn't even that far. It's like going one hundred without having cops stop you."

"Man, that'd be awesome," Alfred grinned, just thinking about it. Going one hundred on the highway without having a speed limit, anyone to crash into or police to nag at you about the speed limit. "Makes me want to be a pilot."

"You could," Matthew pointed out and Alfred simply shook his head with a 'naw'.

Two hours passed faster than they'd originally assumed would and soon enough, the air show was starting. Of course, the fighter jets got to go first. The air show was split into two because of Arthur and the others' requests to get a spot in said air show. They were scheduled to go right after them and surprisingly, they'd gotten a message that they were attracting a larger crowd because of their extra addition. Like Alfred had pointed out earlier, FOX News was there to cover their demonstration as well. Hopefully it'd become a national sport. International was kind of a stretch, but they, mostly Alfred, couldn't help but hope.

Alfred ogled over the fighter jets that blasted back and forth, performing simple aerobatics and showing off a few things that their biplanes could never pull off. Within time, Alfred, Matthew and Ivan, from afar, were waiting for Yao, David, Francis and Arthur to line their planes up to take off.

"Oh hello, may I have a minute of your time?" Alfred looked over his shoulder and grinned at the news reporter. It would obviously take more than 'just a minute', but Alfred was completely fine with that.

"That's no problem," he grinned and Matthew stepped next to him.

"What're your names?"

"Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams."

"Alright, secondly, are you with those four getting ready to take off?"

"Yup. Great friends with them, we all go to the same high school," Alfred grinned. Arthur would be pissed with him if he revealed that the two of them were in a romantic relationship. Alfred was even a tad uncomfortable with telling the reporter that, so he kept his mouth shut.

"So, who came up with this idea? Was it inspired by what they do in the military or something?"

"Well…Al had the idea first when we were just riding with them one day, mocking a dogfight. Then Francis, his dorm mate and I worked on the lasers and technology. The complicated sounding stuff," Matthew answered. "It took some time since well…high school drama," he smiled and the reporter nodded. She probably didn't understand their kind of high school drama.

"Well, I've been wondering ever since I heard about you guys—don't you think it's dangerous? Don't you worry about them? Because I think one of them, Arthur Kirkland, has gotten into a bad accident."

"Well first of all," Alfred started sternly. "It wasn't the best of weather conditions, he shouldn't have even gone out," he knew everything. He just decided that they didn't need the whole inside story. "And secondly, I trust them. They're like, the best pilots I know. I mean, there are others better than them out there, but I really trust these guys. I've never really found myself worrying about them up there."

"I have every now and then, but it was vague and went away easily," Mathew answered, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal. "Yeah, I guess it's a trust thing."

"I see you have your laptop here likely for some technical reasons."

"Hm? Oh yeah, I had to sync my laptop with the computers we put into the planes so the lasers and receivers have a base to send the info to. Like, the receivers on the wings aren't worth as many points as the ones on the center of the wing right over their heads which would more likely do more damage in real life. I should've put one where the engine is, but we can do that later. It's kinda like a game."

"I can see, have you ever thought about it becoming something national or just in the state?"

"Well…sometimes I do think about it and how awesome it'd be, but then it wouldn't make us unique from other people. Like we'll be the 'cool' kids if you want to say that," Alfred answered and Matthew rolled his eyes. "I don't really know how to word it. But yeah, we are in fact the ones that started the public game, but it's still not the same as it just being something only _we_ do."

"That sounds kind of personal."

"I don't really know if I should consider it personal or not," Alfred shrugged his shoulder, a sheepish grin stretching his lips and the reporter smiled.

Their interview continued until the demonstration was already over. Alfred hadn't even looked up once and was starting to feel bad for not watching the four of them perform. He could watch it on the internet though, or on television if he caught the broadcast on time. It didn't seem like Matthew had caught it either though, so he didn't feel terribly bad.

The second the four landed, the news crew shifted their spotlight from those two to the four who pulled their planes onto the grass. Alfred and Matthew watched Yao talk animatedly with the reporter who seemed to be enjoying herself. Yao was probably over exaggerating everything too, the sneaky guy. David seemed a bit baffled about being on television giving that he'd moved from India which wasn't exactly the richest country in the world. Sometimes the Indian adjusted immediately, or took a moment to figure things out. Arthur looked like he thought the whole thing was absolutely ridiculous and Francis looked like he was considering flirting with the reporter, though was eyeing Matthew every now and then, making sure he was or wasn't watching so he wouldn't get in trouble.

"Man, this air show was awesome!" Alfred grinned, clapping his cousin on the shoulder.

"Yup. And we'll be endlessly reminded for the next week or two with extra mail and letter," Matthew pointed out and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Dude, I doubt they can even find our contacts."

"Oh, you have no idea how amazing the internet is then."

XXXX

**Beaut****é – Beauty**

** Oh goodness, this honestly took WAY too long to get out. I started it Tuesday and never picked it up again until today. I've just become rather busy and my problem with not updating for a while is that I just stop. Things just…come to a standstill and it all dies. So that's why I don't necessarily take breaks…if I stop well…I stop. So bleh.**

** Man, I wanted to say something earlier, but I can't even remember what I wanted to say, so wah. I'll cry in my for-ever-alone-corner. Lol, I had a fun fact earlier one day when I picked this up for about one hundred words, but when I got to it, I was like: "Wait…what did I want to do?"**

**Fun Fact: Surgeons who grew up playing video games make 37% less mistakes.**


	44. Chapter 44

** I'm back~! Sorry for that epically large gap of nothingness…**

**XXXX**

Arthur sighed as he and Matthew made pancakes. It was the Fourth of July and the Briton knew that he'd have to endure another night of illegal fireworks and hollering Americans. But he wasn't exactly focused entirely on said holiday, he was more focused on the celebration of Alfred's eighteenth time around the sun. His birthday. Alfred and Matthew had apparently agreed to celebrate both of their birthdays on July fourth. According to Matthew, they alternated when they'd celebrate their birthdays together ever since they were seven. Last year, they'd celebrated on the first of July. Funny how that was also Canada Day.

So back to the pancakes. He was supposed to get an enormous batch done by the time Alfred woke up, but _someone_ found enjoyment in eating (and almost choking) as many pancakes as possible.

Irritated, Arthur swat at Francis's hand which had been reaching for the stack of food, sending the Frenchman a heated glare. He simply grinned up at Arthur and the Briton knew that Francis would resume with eating as many pancakes as he could. He was choking on them mainly because of how quickly he was shoveling them down. Every now and then he'd crack a bad joke about Arthur's cooking in the background and Matthew had long since told Arthur to ignore his boyfriend. Too bad it wasn't exactly working, Francis was a real attention grabber.

There was the sound of something tumbling down the stairs and Arthur thought it was Alfred at first only to be corrected when Iggy came bounding in, the dog almost his full size. Iggy barked and immediately placed his front paws on the edge of the table, stretching his neck out so he could get some of the pancakes in the middle of the table. Matthew tugged the dog back by the collar with a sharp 'no' only to have Iggy happily jump up on him, licking at his face happily. "Gah! Get off!"

Iggy's name was so ridiculous that Arthur refused to say it, so Francis ended up having to whistle for the dog. Iggy's ears twitched and he jumped down from Matthew before bounding happily over to Francis who dropped a pancake on the floor.

"Don't feed him human food!" Matthew wailed as Iggy jumped up into Francis's lap. Matthew approached the two and tugged Iggy back by the collar again, snapping at the white shepherd to sit down. Tongue lolling out, Iggy seated himself in the middle of the kitchen before bounding back over to Francis, obviously expecting another pancake.

"Oh you two! Check out what I got Amerique for his birthday?" Francis started, standing up from his spot on the chair before leaving for the front of the house. Matthew and Arthur tilted their heads to the side almost simultaneously in confusion and they waited for the Frenchman to return. It took a bit of time for the wavy haired blond to do so as well, but eventually, he tumbled into the kitchen with what looked like safety goggles you wore during science experiments.

"Safety goggles?" Arthur asked, speaking what first came to his mind. Francis was about to answer when he teetered off to the side and bumped into the cabinet. "…Uh…Are you okay?"

"Oui mon ami, they're beer goggles!" Francis chimed as he reached out as if he were in a pitch black room. "Look, I'm acting natural~"

"That is _not_ natural," Arthur deadpanned and Matthew stopped Francis before the Frenchman bumped into him. Francis grinned and pulled the goggles off before setting them on the counter.

"It's disorientating."

"I'm sure it is."

Iggy started barking before the sound of something hitting the ground directly above them silenced them all. Iggy left the kitchen and they could hear him scramble up the steps excitedly. There was a brief moment of nothing before Alfred came bounding down, Iggy following after him happily. "Artieee~!"

Arthur braced himself before he was scooped up by Alfred who began twirling him in circles. "Guess what day it is~!"

"Independence Day," Arthur answered blandly, though he was obviously joking around with the American.

"Yeah, but what else?" Alfred whined as he set Arthur down.

Arthur smiled and rolled his eyes in response. "Your birthday," he finally answered and Alfred happily confirmed Arthur's answer.

"Correct~! Hi Mattie~! Bonerfoy, you better not be feeding my dog poison!" Alfred grinned broadly as Francis dropped another pancake on the floor, Iggy scrambling over to snatch it up.

"Non mon ami, I'm just being friendly~" Francis grinned.

"But you hate Iggy!" Alfred whined childishly, though he was still grinning enthusiastically. "Hi Iggsters~! Now be careful of what Bonerfoy feeds you, it could be harmful!" Alfred cooed as he rubbed the dogs ears, Iggy's tongue still lolling out.

"Al, why don't you just eat some pancakes? You know…before Francis and Iggy get the rest," Arthur suggested, sending Francis a glare before grinning back at his boyfriend. Alfred grinned and thanked Arthur as he approached the plate of pancakes. The American then stopped and gave the food a suspicious look. It took Arthur a moment to realize what his boyfriend was doing. "Matthew helped me make them Al."

The American still picked one up hesitantly before taking a small nibble from it. He paused before grinning and thanking Matthew, the Briton rolling his eyes. Alfred glanced around the kitchen for a moment before his gaze rested on the beer goggles on the counter. "Oh, dude, are those what I think they are?" he asked excitedly, getting up and going straight to the head wear. He pulled them on and his grin widened. "Holy hell, they are!" he then proceeded with doing almost exactly what Francis was doing earlier, though he looked even dumber giving that he was well…Alfred.

"Ah! Back off!" Francis barked as Alfred walked right into him.

"Mwahaha! These are _so_ cool! Who got them for me?"

"I did," Francis muttered, though a small grin still touched his lips. Alfred then grinned and Francis sidestepped.

"Thank you~!" he wrapped his arms around thin air, where he assumed Francis was and ended up falling almost flat on his face.

"De rein mon ami," Francis grinned as he looked down at the American sprawled out on the ground. Alfred wasn't showing any signs of getting back up anytime soon, so the wavy haired blond returned to his seat at the table.

"Oh! And happy belated birthday to you too Mattie~! Did you do anything _special_ a few days ago?" Alfred then asked, lifting his head and grinning suggestively at his cousin who huffed and averted his eyes, a small blush surfacing on his cheeks. Alfred could tell Matthew was trying to look as casual as possible too, it was becoming humorous. "Man, it's great being able to celebrate our birthdays together at times," Alfred grinned, deciding to change the subject. "I think we should do something awesome for the both of us, any suggestions?"

There was a brief silence, nobody exactly able to come up with something Alfred might like. Arthur obviously didn't seem to have anything on mind since he knew Alfred might call everything he suggested stupid or boring. Matthew didn't know what to think, he honestly just wanted to stay at Alfred's home and hang out with the other three and Iggy. Alfred stood up and tried to seat himself back in a seat with the beer goggles still on and ended up underestimating where the support was, landing on his rear heavily.

"Hey, how about just walking around downtown Minneapolis tonight?" Francis suddenly suggested, a grin stretching at his lips.

"Why?" Alfred asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he pulled the beer goggles up onto his forehead. He'd never really been out in the city at night, but he didn't think anything special happened there.

"Oh, giving that the U's there, I know what it's like on a Fourth of July night~" Francis grinned.

III

Ludwig furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "So…you're asking for Gilbert's…Ford?" the German questioned. He didn't exactly know what to call it giving that it had enormous wheels on it that were very likely illegal in the state of Minnesota.

"Well…yeah," Alfred grinned. Francis had told him not to tell Ludwig that he'd sent the American for some reason, but he played along anyways.

The German huffed and raked a hand through his slicked back hair. "Fine, _only_ tonight. I'm _never_ doing this _ever_ again," he muttered as he reentered his home. He was going to get the Ford pickup back to looking as normal as possible before selling it. Gilbert wasn't going to come home anytime soon obviously…

Alfred currently had Matthew, Arthur, Yao and David with him, having nobody else to take with him. The German stepped out once more with a small ring of keys before motioning for them to follow him to the garage. He manually lifted the door of the garage and Alfred's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Holy hell, is that even _legal_?"

He hadn't exactly expected to see a Ford pickup with enormous tires along with the Prussian flag on the side. The tires were what shocked him so much. David was staring at it in disbelief, still having to adjust to American culture whilst Yao grinned broadly. Arthur facepalmed and muttered under his breath about not wanting Alfred to get a ticket for it.

"I'm not sure if they're legal, but Gilbert's been doing it for a few years without getting in trouble and I've seen other guys around our age with them, so…no. I don't think they illegal," Ludwig sighed, shaking his head.

"C'mon! Rev this puppy for us! Does it have one of those mufflers?" Alfred asked, a large grin finally surfacing. He jumped into the bed of the truck and Ludwig muttered under his breath before telling Alfred he'd have to drive it on his own.

"Oh, this is so cool!" Yao chimed excitedly, jumping into the truck bed as Alfred slid out. "The sun's setting too! We should be getting out pretty soon guys!" the Chinese pilot continued as he helped David up into the truck bed, Matthew and Arthur both following reluctantly after the other two.

"Just…please be careful with it…" Ludwig requested, glancing at Alfred as he stepped into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut. Alfred grinned and rolled the window down, looking out and over his shoulder at the four in the bed of the truck. The American almost burst out laughing at Arthur and Matthew's expressions.

"Don't worry you two, it's only for tonight," he reassured with a grin.

III

Arthur had heard that teenagers and young adults went out to drink, have fun and show off, but this was a bit overwhelming. He wasn't even sure if poor David was responsive at the moment with how long he was taking to take in his surroundings. It was obviously loud with almost everyone having mufflers on their trucks and music being played obviously way too loud. The lights were bright too since they were in the city and people were whooping and cheering in the streets, with and without shirts, on the road and on the sidewalk. It was…definitely American, that was all Arthur could say.

Some people were on motorcycles, their girlfriends behind them, arms wound around their waists as they revved past. Alfred was also playing music way too loud, having quickly picked up on the atmosphere. Gilbert had some pretty explicit music though. Other people were also in the bed of other trucks, waving American flags euphorically in the air, chanting something along the lines of 'USA!' and 'America!' constantly.

"How do you get asleep with all of this going on?" Matthew asked, having to yell over all of the excitement of the Fourth of July. "I might want to go to a college in a rural area!"

"Well, that's because you _don't_ go to sleep!" Alfred grinned, sticking his head out the window and looking back at them. It was a wonder how Alfred had managed to hear Matthew's statement.

"Viva España! Hola amigos!" Antonio cheered as he pulled up to the truck Alfred was driving. The Spaniard was on a motorcycle, although it wasn't one of those big ones. It was about a perfect size for someone like him and…was that Lovino?

"_Antonio_?" Arthur asked, looking over the edge of the bed of the truck. "What're you doing out here?" he continued as he examined the Spanish flag that was on a pole attached to the back of the motorcycle. The Italian didn't look like he wanted to be there, although there was a look of enjoyment on his face.

"Bonjour mes amis~! How are you enjoying your night?" Francis asked as he pulled up to the truck as well, instead of a Spanish flag attached to a pole, there was a French one. It was likely the one he carried around for the Halloween party a while ago.

"Bonerfoy? You're not cool enough to own one of those!" Alfred exclaimed, having to lean to the right since their two friends were on their right side.

"What? No~! These are dear Antonio's, we used to do stuff like this all of the time with—" Francis cut himself off and Antonio also didn't bother with saying anything. It didn't seem like anything would snap them out of it until someone honked their horn.

"Move bastard!" Lovino barked, slapping Antonio on the shoulder blade and the Spaniard immediately cheered up once more.

"Well, we're off! Backing up traffic, adios~!" Antonio called as he revved the motorcycle before actually taking off, going as far as freaking Lovino out by pulling off a wheelie.

"Adieu mon amour~! I'll pick you up later~!" Francis exclaimed to Matthew before going after Antonio.

Alfred looked over to his left when a loud boom could be heard and grinned. Fireworks were starting since people all over the street began cheering and whooping even more than they originally were. Arthur had to cover his ears when a group of teenagers revved by, their music on way too loud.

"Bloody hell…this is definitely the American way of celebrating independence, God…" he exclaimed to Matthew, having to yell over all of the noise.

"Yeah, I'm surprised Francis and Antonio are pitching in!" Matthew yelled back, one of his ears also covered by a hand.

"Well…he _would_ disappear on Fourth of July nights…I just never assumed he was hanging out with Gilbert and Antonio," Arthur answered and Matthew nodded his head. The fireworks were popping rather frequently and people continued to cheer. Arthur decided he'd people watch and examined young adults sitting in the bed of a truck much like he was. The only difference was that they were drinking alcohol. It was truly chaotic and he kind of wondered what it was like on New Year's Eve. Probably just as wild.

"Wow…America's insane!" David announced, having finally taken in all of the activities going on around him.

"Hey cutie~!" someone called from the sidewalk, grinning up at Arthur as the truck he was in drove past. Arthur glared at them and the four guys laughed amongst each other.

"Wankers!" he called and that only made them laugh harder. "Damn it," Arthur then huffed, turning around so his back was facing the sidewalk.

"Don't bother with them," Matthew sighed. He'd had quite a bit of people flirt with him even when he wasn't doing something like this. Mostly it was when he was hanging out on 50th and France. "Just play it cool, then they won't bother you excessively," he continued and Arthur simply huffed and crossed his arms moodily.

The two looked over to the other side of the wide road when they started hearing Lovino's angry voice and Antonio's enthusiastic cheers of 'viva España'. Francis wasn't too far behind, also chanting something in French. Antonio revved the motorcycle once more, it jerking forward along with making Lovino jump. The Italian obviously looked like he didn't want to be there, but there was that small look of enjoyment in the midst of it all. The two were moving in the opposite direction as they were, so Arthur assumed you just drove ovals around the most populated part of the city. He also noted that bars and restaurants were absolutely packed.

"Hey Matthew, were you hoping for a quiet night?" Arthur decided to ask. He was hoping for a quieter night, but this wasn't as bad as it originally seemed.

"W-well I _am _getting excited about the motorcycle ride with Francis…" Matthew admitted, a small blush tainting his cheeks and Arthur hummed. He was about to say something else when the truck jerked forward, alerting everyone in the bed of the truck.

"Alfred!" Arthur barked irritably.

"Whoops! Sorry about that~!" Alfred grinned, sticking his head out of the window and looking back at them. Arthur stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend who laughed and sped the truck up a bit. He then looked back and Matthew who grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders at his cousin's behavior.

Arthur looked to his right once more when Antonio began chanting something else other than 'viva España' in Spanish. He figures Francis and Antonio had made a quick u-turn not too long ago to catch up with them.

"Quick, mon amour, hop on!" Francis urged and Matthew jumped out of the bed of the truck. He hopped onto the back of the motorcycle and wound his arms around Francis's waist without hesitation. The Canadian grinned at Arthur who smiled back before Francis took off to catch up with Antonio, calling 'charger!' as he did so. Arthur assumed that was charge in French.

Arthur watched Matthew's back before sighing and mentally admitting that he was a bit jealous. "Hey guys, wanna just stop and watch the traffic?" Alfred asked, catching the remaining three's attentions. Yao and David agreed so Arthur didn't really have a chance. He did want to just pull off to the side though.

They were parked in a legal spot to park on the densely occupied road, people watching. It had a typical American feel to it as well. Young adults revved their muffled engines at each other, played their music way too loud, cheered and whooped in the beds of trucks, drunk or sober and waved American flags wildly high in the air. The only two flags that stuck out were obviously Antonio's and Francis's, though the two likely had those just for the hell of it. Arthur did know however, that the French helped America gain its independence.

Antonio's motorcycle passed by rather quickly, obviously faster than the last three times Arthur saw the Spaniard pass by. He was also chanting something completely different that the past few times as well. Alfred was in the bed of the truck as well, so that was why he leant over and asked why Antonio was chanting about his culinary skills. Arthur simply sighed and shook his head, reassuring his boyfriend that he was also dumbstruck.

Francis and Matthew then passed by as well, Matthew having untied the flag from the pole and holding it above his head, the two of them drawing out the word 'liberté !' as they passed, some guys whistling loudly at Matthew.

"I'm surprised Bonerfoy even _did _this," Alfred shook his head. "He doesn't really seem like the kind of guy to do so…" he continued as he wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders, pulling the messy haired blond closer.

"He's…different when it comes to Antonio and Gilbert…You should be glad Gilbert isn't here though. They're probably even worse than they are right now," Arthur answered and Alfred snickered.

"It's too bad the guy isn't very sane…so…what do you think of this? Is it fun? I think it's fun…" Alfred asked, squeezing Arthur's shoulder.

"Well…yeah. Sure, it was fun, though a bit overwhelming," Arthur answered a bit reluctantly and Alfred happily hugged his boyfriend from the side.

"Aww, it's great to hear that this was fun! I've never done it before, so yeah, it kind of is overwhelming, but you just go with the flow ya know?" Alfred said before continuing, "Hah! That rhymed!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and hugged Alfred back. He was going to enjoy whatever time he had left with Alfred giving that he was due to leave America pretty soon.

XXXX

** Abrupt ending is abrupt. Lol, I really want beer goggles…we had them in driver's ed today, but I didn't get to try them out…I'm so sad…;A; I think there's either going to one or two more chapters left…this story's ending! Nuuu! I'm going to miss it so much…I honestly really like this story…:3**

**Fun Fact: You're restricted from driving a red car down Lake Street in Minneapolis, Minnesota.**


End file.
